


We'd Be Heroes, They Said

by Enk



Series: Astro Boys in Love [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Astronaut training, Astronauts, Character Death, Conditioning, Consent Issues, Exhibitionism, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Masturbation, NASA, Unresolved Sexual Tension, a deer, isolation exercise, rash decisions, reference to overdose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-06-05 05:08:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 63,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6690925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enk/pseuds/Enk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nearly a year after the #spacehomos incident, Tony finds himself on a Journey to Mars that he couldn't have imagined. What he thought would be a path of redemption and personal success turns into a path of hurt and trying to survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In a Moonage Day Dream (Freak Out)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer, this is a transformative work and I own nothing. It is a continuing love letter to NASA, the space exploration program, and the International Space Station. Really, it's a love letter to humans in space, frostiron style. I've tried to research every single detail about living aboard a space station, astronaut training, NASA protocols, vehicles, even sex in space (sure did attend a two-hour panel on that topic). If there is anything I've gotten outright wrong, please let me know and I will correct my mistake. Since NASA's Journey to Mars is still in its infancy, I've taken some liberties with how things may or may not progress.

 

Tony wakes when the smell of bacon meanders from the kitchen into the bedroom of his and Loki's penthouse apartment. The smell of bacon and eggs and the promise of fried potatoes and whatever else Loki's decided to cook. Tony sighs with content and lays on the bed listening to the sounds coming from the kitchen, clicking pots, coffee burbling in the drip coffee maker- Loki's an espresso guy, but he knows Tony prefers drip-, and bacon spitting in the pan as it fries to crispy perfection. Tony's stomach makes himself known with soft rumbles, but Tony would like to enjoy the quiet moment before getting out of bed. It's peaceful here, under the covers. Soft, silken sheets wrapped around him, no longer warm from Loki's body but his scent lingers. The sheets smell thick and heady, like sweat and sex, incredible sex. For a moment, Tony buries his face in the fabric, deeply inhales a scent he knows he won't experience for a long time.

 

Today is the day they will receive the call on whether or not they've made it into the final 30 candidates for the Mars Astronaut Training Program, shortened to MAT. And today, MAT will make two calls to this residence: one for Loki Odinson and one for Anthony Stark. After that, they'll know if they made it. Tony knows Loki's in, has to be. He's been ranked in the Top 3 candidates for the first four rounds: initial application, interviews, psych eval, and more interviews. Top 30 means basic training, extensive field testing, and whatever else NASA is coming up with to test this crop of astronauts. They have to be bigger, better, stronger, smarter, faster- they will have to be better than human. Loki's guaranteed in and Tony, well Tony's stomach won't let him contemplate where he stands. It growls, demanding to be fed.

 

"Okay, okay," Tony pushes the sheets off himself, "I get it. Food now. Existential crisis after we get the call."

 

With a heavy breath he sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed and gets up. He stretches and yawns and winces when he feels all the spots he is sore from last night. Great sex, very sore, absolutely worth it. Tony pats into the ensuite bathroom to brush his teeth and hey, not swallowing toothpaste is still great. His pants are in a crumpled heap on the bathroom floor, but fortunately, they are still dry. Dry is good, especially since last night had started in the shower. Fuck, he has to take a deep breath and think of geological timelines to keep himself from getting hard again. He manages to dress and when he walks into the kitchen, a feast had been lain out on the breakfast bar: bacon, eggs, fried potatoes, fruit salad, orange juice, beans, what looks like green smoothies, and oh hey, pancakes. And Loki's soaking the dishes in the sink like a domestic God in an apron and boxer briefs.

 

"I don't say this often enough, but I am a very lucky man."

 

Of course, Loki merely turns around and raises an eyebrow at him. They are not the couple for compliments and maudlin fluff. At least not that either of them would ever admit, out loud or otherwise. Sure, they've had their rough patches. The most recent one stemming from Tony's penchant for the dramatic. To be fair, #spacehomos trended for two months straight and made a come back every time both their names were announced in the next group of MAT candidates. That had to count for something. Not that Loki had agreed, but they'd worked through it and that's all that matters now.

 

"Eat." Loki says and sits down on one of the bar stools. "I'm starving and keeping the food warm until you decided to saunter downstairs-" he breaks off and a smile plays around his lips when Tony sits down beside him. He can never make it through the entirety of the Nagging Partner act. "Good morning." He says, softer, still smiling as he kisses Tony.

 

"Good morning indeed." Tony smiles and just maybe slips Loki a little tongue before he's pushed away.

 

"No. Eat." Loki puts a fork in front of him. "We're scheduled for calls at 0930 and 0945. We have an hour, make that 50 minutes to eat and be ready."

 

"Are you nervous, babe?" Tony picks a strip of bacon from his plate and eats it. "You look a bit nervous."

 

Loki could insist that he's not, but Tony's noticed how clean the entire apartment is. The kitchen- despite Loki having cooked a feast- sparkles clean. Even the hood vent has been polished and that's literally the thing even the cleaning service tends to forget on a regular basis. Loki's not just nervous; he's frantically trying to clean and cook his nerves away. Tony doesn't mean to smile, but he does and Loki elbows him for it.

 

"Why would I be?" He grimaces and Tony understands. They have the same knots in the their stomachs. The same fears. What if they don't make it? What if they do? What if only one of them does? Tony knows that is the scenario most likely in this case. Loki will get in and he'll be out. he is surprised he is even made it past psych eval to be honest what with his not-so-stable past. But he did and now, they are both waiting, Tony so nervous he's eating like he is been starved for a week and Loki so nervous he's merely picking at his plate like he hasn't been up for hours already.

 

"You'll get in." Tony says.

 

"It's the biggest cut, Anthony." He says and takes a sip of the smoothie- spinach and apple by the way.

 

"I know." It is the biggest cut. They're whittling candidates from 300 to 30. That's huge. Initial applications don't technically count because the requirements are still broad, so whittling it down from more than 10,000 to 300, Tony doesn't count that as part of the cuts. 270 people will hang up the phone today, filled with disappointment and 30 people would celebrate. Until then, 300 people are in limbo waiting by their phones. Everyone has been assigned call times and until 1300 hours, no one is allowed to divulge their results. NASA will hold a press conference to reveal the names after everyone has been contacted and until that was over, it was non-disclosure. To no one. Not even family, friends, or the hottest guy wrecked by nerves right now.

 

"If you don't make it," Tony leans closer to Loki, "they are dumb and the program is doomed from the get-go and you are better off not involved with it because they'd probably just forget you on Mars or something."

 

"Ah Anthony," Loki kisses him, gentle, but Tony can feel him shake with nerves.

 

"I mean, if you are really that nervous, we've got 15 minutes before they call you." He grins. "Plenty of time to suck some of the nerves out of you."

 

"You are-"

 

"An amazing boyfriend, I know."

 

Loki steals his bacon and if that's what it takes to get him to stop thinking about not making it, then so be it. That's what amazing boyfriends are for: bacon and mind blowing- pun intended- blow jobs. They eat more in silence after Loki declines two more offers from Tony. It's all good, Tony thinks. There will be celebratory sex later today, or consolation sex. Either way, it doe-

 

The phone rings seven minutes early.

 

Shit.

 

Loki doesn't move. It's his cell. They both know the number. They both know who's on the other line.

 

"Hey, Loke. Phone?" Tony nudges it towards Loki, who startles. "Answer?"

 

"Yeah, sorry," Loki picks up the phone. "Hello?"

 

That's when Tony excuses himself, puts his empty plate in the dishwasher, and takes his coffee to the living room. He doesn't want to watch Loki. Not only might he accidentally overhear the results, but he'd also likely be able to read Loki's immediate reaction and deduce the results from that and until 1300 neither of them is supposed to know the other's results. They've agreed to honour that and it makes sense. Mission before all else and all that. This is the mission. The mission to, well, get into the mission. Tony frowns and takes a sip of his coffee. The phone call takes a long time. Loki's in. He has to be. To tell him no wouldn't take nine, ten, twelve minutes. Tony closes his eyes.

 

They've done it before. They can do it again. Loki goes off to train. They'll see each other when they can. It's okay. It's fine. It would have been nice if there had been more than a year between missions. It's only been eight months since Loki and Natasha came down from the ISS in their Soyuz. Seven months since Loki had slept beside Tony in their bed for the first time in a year. It would have been nice to have more time, but that's not who they are. They're astronauts. If they wanted a white picket fence, they'd retire.

 

Tony's phone rings before Loki joins him in the living room. Probably for the best because Tony's heart decides to beat in his throat, he's suddenly sweaty, cold, and has to take a piss all at the same time. Fuck. Okay. He can do this. He can do this.

 

"Go for Tony Stark."

 

"Tony," it's Maria's voice, "how are you?"

 

"The same as the other 299 you are calling today." He hopes he doesn't sound like a dick. Maria's an awesome person and he's happy she's the one on the other side of the line. Not just because he knows she's rooting for him, but she's also a friend, a good friend and possibly the one responsible for Loki not breaking up with him after the #spacehomos incident.

 

"You know when I started today, I thought I'd make this a little more fun for myself and keep people in suspense while going over their results." She only pauses for a beat. "That lasted four people, so I'm just going to tell you, you are in the Top 30. Congratulations. There will be a briefing package delivered in time for the news conference. Now, I'm sure Loki is over there so try not to grin your face off."

 

"Yes, ma'am." That's all he can say. He's so hot, he's so cold, he's probably a Katy Perry song. He doesn't have to take a piss any more but he's pretty sure he might throw up breakfast. The phone shakes with his hand and he has to concentrate to keep it still. Loki can't know. Not until 1300. He misses the first part of what Maria says next because the blood in his ears sounds like an ocean. "Sorry, say that again?"

 

"I said after the press conference you are go to engage social media and tell anyone you'd like to tell." She's patient. Of course she is. Today is a shitty day to have to tell so many people they didn't make it. Telling the ones who did has to make up for that. "Keep it simple. There will be media training before the second conference tomorrow evening when we introduce you all to the world."

 

"Did you say-"

 

"Remember the poker face, Tony." She smiles as she talks and it is comforting. "And yes, I did say tomorrow. you're booked on a flight to Houston later this afternoon. We want you to be on premise by 1900. I won't go over the results of your interview and test scores until later this week when we have all of you in one place. Congratulations again, we'll see you tonight."

 

"Thank you for the call." Tony manages before he hangs up.

 

The timer on his screen reads three minutes twenty-seven seconds. That's not twelve minutes. He pauses for a beat. His fingers are still cold and clammy and something lodges in his throat when he realizes why his call didn't take twelve minutes. She didn't go over his results with him, because he is in, because he made it and they'd go over them in detail later this week. A longer calls means they went over the results, because someone who didn't make it deserves to be told why and how they can improve for next time. Loki's call was twelve minutes because he was told his results. Because he didn't get in. Tony's breath is trapped in his chest. Loki didn't make it. Loki didn't, but he did. Suddenly, the universe feels incredibly unfair. Loki deserves this more than Tony does. Loki of all people is the most qualified to go to Mars. It's all the man has ever wanted since making it into the astronaut corps.

 

It's not that Tony isn't fucking stoked to have made it into MAT. That he's in the Top 30 and that from now on, if he doesn't make it to the next round, it's all on what he doesn't do in that moment rather than any of his past. What he does now will count for everything. This is the second fucking chance he's waited for since that fateful day eight years ago. The Orion test flight had been his first test, but now, now he is in redemption country for good. But he's there alone, without Loki. And Loki is missing a chance of a lifetime. Tony feels as though his insides have become brittle and any motion will crumble him to dust.

 

"Hey," Loki's voice is by his ear, lips brushing against it.

 

"Hey." Tony manages without his voice breaking. He's not sure he can manage much more.

 

"You know, we have three hours to kill before we can share our fate." Loki's tongue traces along Tony's ear and down his neck. "And I believe you were offering to- how did you so eloquently phrase it? Suck the nerves out of me?"

 

"Yeah." Tony forces himself to smile. "I believe that's what I promised." He turns his head and kisses Loki, deep and hard because he can't let him know that he's figured it out. If Loki's accepting his fate, Tony can be as well and hey, through all that disappointment, the guy definitely deserves a blow job.

 

***

 

"We have to talk." Loki sits up on the bed so fast that Tony snaps out of his half-doze.

 

"Jesus, kit," Tony runs his hand over his face in an attempt to chase away what's left of his post-coital fatigue. "It's been-," he glances at his phone on the floor. It's well after noon. The press conference must have already started to reveal the Top 30. "It's been half an hour since you screamed my name and loudly might I add. You can't just drop that phrase on a sleeping man."

 

"Yes, but I-," Loki furrows his brows.

 

"No, stop," he knows that face. "you are about to tell me something relating to our results and in literally less than half an hour you'll be able to unless you wanna watch the whole thing unfold live."

 

The furrow deepens and Tony can't help but smile. "Look, why don't we watch the conference and if we don't hear our names, we get a world map, throw a dart and book a flight?"

 

"That is preposterous." Loki's frown deepens.

 

"I take that as a yes, then?"

 

"Yes." Loki sighs. "Yes, fine, if neither of us gets in, we'll do that."

 

Tony swallows down the guilt he feels and retrieves his phone from the floor. He leans back and when the first resistance he feels Loki's skin and not the headboard, he relaxes completely. Loki wraps an arm around him and together they watch. They missed the first half of the alphabet, but that's okay, both their last names are near the end.

 

"Maximoff, Wanda; Rogers, Steven; Simmons, Gemma; Stark, Anthony-"

 

"You have got to be kidding." That's all Tony hears as he's pushed onto the bed. "I saw you in the living room and you were so pale, you looked like they told you no and- but you did!" There's an onslaught of smiling kisses and when Wilson, Wade finishes the 30, Tony tries to extract himself from under Loki.

 

"Yeah, but what, they flying us into the sun first?" He looks at Loki who looks confused. "They didn't call you or Romanov and unless you are sick- tell me you are not sick." He searches Loki's face for answers. "You aren't sick, right? But that's the only reason they wouldn't take you. Unless you sabotaged yourself which you wouldn't- oh god, you are sick. What do you need? I can decline. Anything you-"

 

Loki's laughter interrupts him. The guy just throws back his head and laughs like it is a fucking joke. Maybe it's that bad. What if it's really that bad? What if-

 

"I assure you that I am not sick." Loki leans forward and kisses him gently. "We missed the part of the speech when honours were given out to the three top scoring candidates. Candidates who showed so much promise that they are named team leaders for each group." Loki's smile is positively a grin now. "Leaders whom all other candidates should not only strive to be but to surpass in excellence because only then can we-"

 

"You are such a dick. Just say that you were on top of the class and they called your name first."

 

Loki shrugs still grinning.

 

"We're both in, you asshole!" Tony doesn't exactly tackle Loki, but it is close. “We're in the fucking Top 30! We only have to beat 25 people and be on our way to Mars and- you're right.” Tony sits on his heels. “we need to talk.”

 

But it's not about leaving one another behind. That's the good thing. However, they do talk for a long time while they pack their bags. This is the most important opportunity in their careers- hell, in their lives. They have- assuming a crew of five- a hair over a 16.6% chance of making it in. They can probably round it up to 16.7, but Tony won't be as trivial as saying 17. A chance like that doesn't come often and in all likelihood will never come again. Well, maybe for Loki, who hasn't just pushed into his 50s. Even assuming five years of training, the guy's barely going to be in his mid-40s when NASA lands on Mars the first time. He'd still be able to train for the second mission to Mars. For Tony, this is the last chance. Not that he has plans to keel over in the next ten years, but he knows eventually his body will remember the punishment he's given it.

 

They talk for a long time, while packing, while cleaning up the kitchen. They only pause to make a couple of calls for friends to keep an eye on their apartment.

 

"So just to clarify," Tony says as he slips on his jacket. "We're okay with this? On the same page and all that?"

 

"Yes, Anthony," Loki opens the door. "This is more important than our relationship."

 

"And we have to focus, so I can strive for that exceeding the standard you and Romanov apparently set."

 

"Foster, too."Loki deadpans, but Tony doesn't care. He won't let him live down his achievements for a while.

 

"That you, Romanov, and Foster set." Tony nods and picks up his suitcase and messenger bag. "The press is going to be upset that #spacehomos isn't a thing any more."

 

"I am certain they'll recover." Loki smiles. "Last kiss for a while."

 

"18 months is a long fucking time, not a while."

 

"I'll lend you a sock."

 

They kiss. Last kiss, last intimacy until they have graduated or one of them flunks out. This opportunity means too much. They've agreed to take a break from maintaining their relationship. Not to sleep with other people, nothing like that. To focus on the mission, to show they don't need each other to succeed, but also to prove that there is no conflict of interest should they both be selected to go to Mars. It makes sense to both of them and when they get into the taxi that picks them up, there's just one more stop before they are at the airport and on the plane to Houston.

 


	2. Like a Leper Messiah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the first day at a new school is always the longest and Tony meets a lot of people.

 

It's really fucking early in the morning when Tony desperately clutches a cup of what he believes to be the worst coffee he has ever had. Still, it's coffee and he will hold on to it until it is cold enough to chug in one go. He remembers all of this from the first time he's been a candidate. 0530 mornings seemed easier then, probably because he pushed 30 then, and not well- he's old now, at least in comparison to everyone else. Not that this gives him any second thought on whether or not he'll perform better than the others. He knows he will. He's just grateful there aren't any military standard inspections. He can tell which of the candidates are used to them though as he walks by the open doors along the corridor and half the beds are meticulously neat and the other half are like his and to be filed under "well they tried". Astronauts don't have to make beds in space.

 

He can also tell who the morning people are. He already knows he might hate Rogers, and Wilson- both of them- who look like they've already finished their morning run and had breakfast. Fuck, maybe he is too old for this after all. Too late now, if he flunks out on purpose, Loki's going to kill him. Maybe he should let the coffee settle in first. Then yell at the kids to get off his lawn. Breakfast is... nutritionally balanced. That's all he can say about that as he takes a bite of his toast as he walks into the seating area. He sees Loki, but instead of going to sit with him and Natasha, he sits himself smack in the middle of the cafeteria without a word. This is the agreement, mission first. As soon as he sits, he can hear them, whispers from some of the other cadets, hushed comments of awe and when he hears 'holy shit, we're in the same class as Rocket Man Stark', he changes his mind again. He will do perfectly well.

 

After breakfast, they're ushered into a conference room where Nick Fury, head of the Mars Training Program, awaits them. If Tony's well-known, Fury's a legend. The guy lost his eye saving four fellow astronauts during a test flight gone wrong. Killed his flight career then and there but that didn't matter. He's a damn hero and commands the room in ways Tony can only one day hope he'll be able to achieve. Not that he has aspirations toward being genuinely respected. Shallow admiration will do just as well and greatly underrated.

 

"So you are all here, because you wanna go to Mars." Fury looks around the room. "I see a lot of distinguished astronauts in here. Few new faces. And some faces I didn't think I'd see." He isn't looking directly at Tony, but Tony gets his point. "Well, all your hard work paid off, you are all back to square one. Welcome Mars Training Group, all of you are ASCANs again." For a brief moment, the group of new kids looks like they're going to applaud, but realization sets in fast enough to avoid that kind of embarrassment

 

The rest of the speech is about expectations and so on and so forth. Fury reiterates the importance for excellence, blah, blah, blah, that kind of spiel. Though he's right, there are a couple of first time ASCANs which will make things interesting. Tony looks over to the Maximoff siblings. Twins and all that, it's their first time. Zero flight experience. Means they'll be tough to beat. They know everyone will underestimate them, so they'll work ten times as hard. There's James 'Bucky' Barnes whom Tony knows through Loki, also new, a few women- military maybe, hard to tell until he sees how they made their beds. Tony's sure he'll learn their name in time. Some pretty boy, and a nervous kid round up the folks he doesn't know. The rest he either knows in passing or they're part of the veteran astronaut group in the class: Loki, Natasha, Jane Foster, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, all of whom have had more space time in the past five years than Tony's had in his entire career. He isn't exactly at a disadvantage. He's had flight time in the past 12 months, heck he flew around the moon. Out of everyone here, only Rogers did that.

 

After the speech, three more people impart their wisdom upon them before they introduce the training team. Tony's not surprised Loki's brother Thor is on medical. He is surprised- to say the least- when he sees Jarvis introduced. The man had come out of retirement to be the cap-com on the Orion mission. Had he really come back to be an instructor? Tony takes a drink from the now cold coffee he still clutches in his hands like the caffeine will transfer through the paper cup. The only other surprise is seeing Bruce Banner as an instructor. He would have bet on the man dropping everything to be part of the Mars crew, but apparently, Tony's wrong. He makes a note to figure out what happened there before everyone stands up and mingles.

 

"I have to be honest, " he hears Pepper's voice behind him. Of course she's the media adviser on this mission. "I did not expect to see you make it into the program. Or even into the preliminary round if I'm honest."

 

Okay, so there's a lot of history between him and Pepper. A long, long time ago, they'd been dating. Back in the day when Tony had first become an astronaut... and an alcoholic. The split hadn't exactly been terrible, but also not particularly amicable, not when Pepper assumed he'd started fooling around with Loki immediately after and he hadn't exactly corrected her until a few years later. After Loki made him.

 

"Well, while you are honest," Tony turns around with a smile and drinks the rest of his cold coffee like it's good and still warm, "tell me you are surprised I'm still alive."

 

"If I was, I wouldn't be the only one." Her smile is genuine, but maybe Tony prefers it not to be. "But it is good that you are. Means you're beating it."  _ It _ being of course alcoholism, but no one aside from Loki actually mentions Tony's disease by name.

 

"Pretty awesome you get to be the social media adviser to all of us." He's trying not to sound abrasive, but the constant omission does become annoying. “Babysitting our Facebook pages must be a lot of fun.”

 

"NASA thought it might be appropriate. To her credit, she doesn't mention #spacehomos or Tony's penchant for outrageous social media events either. But thanks for the job. I'll see you around." And hey, if Tony can be of service then damn right he will be. Pepper deserves an awesome job. She's a great woman. One he didn't deserve at the time and he's glad light banter is now their default. He can handle light banter.

 

Someone pops champagne and even on Tony's bad days, nine o'clock in the morning had been excessive. It's refreshing that his past is not as well-known as he'd assumed it would be. There are offers of champagne and unless people are actively trying to sabotage him on day one, that means that the Orion mission either erased his colourful past or that his outrageous party days were not nearly as memorable as he thought them to be. When he declines for a third time, he can see Loki make his way across the room toward him.

 

“Checking up on me?” He smiles, because what else is he supposed to do when the most gorgeous guy in the room not only joins him, but is in fact his, even if they're keeping that on the lowest of downs for the time being.

 

“I know you to be perfectly fine on your own, Anthony.” Still Anthony, not Stark, that's always a good sign. “I am merely here to let you know that you are on Romanov's team. She's in charge of everyone who doesn't need flight training.”

 

“I don't get to be on your team?” Tony pretends to frown. It's a good thing, less conflict of interest, and he's sure that even if Loki had been put in charge of those who don't need flight training, Fury- or maybe even Loki- would have changed the roster so that he wouldn't end up on Loki's team. “So who do you have?”

 

“You know, I'm not even supposed to tell you you are not on my team yet.”

 

“But you did, so I'm gonna push it. At least tell me who else is on my team?”

 

“Romanov has you, Rogers, the quiet Wilson, and- really don't pretend like you don't know who is on your team. You know everyone's flight hours. I saw you look them up on our flight here.”

 

“So tell me who's on yours.”

 

“I've got the newbies. Apparently Fury thinks I'm good with children.” Loki rolls his eyes. “I've got the twins, Johnson, Simmons, Ward, Fitz, Barton, Mackenzie, and Morse.”

 

“Wow they did give you all the fledglings, except for Barton.”

 

“Only eight first timers, had to round off the group with some experience.”

 

“That means Romanov has me, the quiet Wilson, Rogers, Barnes- who else?”

 

“It'll be your surprise when this part is over.” Loki smiles and looks past Tony. “If you'll excuse me.”

 

And just like that, their conversation is over and Tony is left to mingle with the rest of the class and the instructors. His life is hard. He replaces the cold coffee with water and puts on a smile. Really, he does what Anthony Stark does best: talk to people. And people talk to him. By the time there's a call for lunch, he has spoken to every of the other candidates and all of the instructors and formed an opinion on them. All of them good people, he's sure. Rogers might end up an agent of friction judging by the curt conversation they had. By now, Tony knows when someone thinks he doesn't belong. Rogers doesn't think he belongs. Too bad for the guy that NASA thinks he does. He comes with his own posse, too, of course he does. The Quiet Wilson, Barnes, and Carter- another one on his team, then. They're all ex-military, all with enough flight hours both in low earth orbit and in fighter jet cockpits to make someone other than Tony Stark feel intimidated.

 

There's the pile of active military- exclusively Navy, which Tony finds interesting- newbies that Loki has. All very eager, all very excited for their first flight lessons: Johnson, Fitz, Simmons, and Ward all served on the same ship. The Maximoffs are Roscosmos trainees who haven't even had their first basic training. Out of everyone, he is the least certain why they are here. The two are reserved and attached to each other., barely talking to anyone else. Conflict of interest waiting to happen, but Natasha knows them and speaks highly of them, so they can't be that bad, but honestly, the whole attached by the hip thing will hunder more than help.

 

It doesn't take long for Tony to figure out that Jane has the science group who's flown before. Temple is a medical doctor with a special interest in neurobiology. Lang is an electrical engineer. Morita is a satellite communications guy. With his own PhD in Physics and taking into consideration that he and Lang graduated from the same program, Tony's surprised he's not in that group. Natasha's group has the most flight experience and out of everyone he knows in that group, he's the least experienced when it comes to flight hours. Maybe that's something he should worry about, but then he hears the call to lunch and no matter what age, you put 30 students in one place and tell them there's free food? They will shut up and do as they're told. Even Tony who never had to worry about money his entire life understands the value of free food. So of course, as they leave the conference room, they are divided into groups. Little less ceremony than say the Sorting Hat as all it involved is people signing a piece of paper and getting a colour coded sticker slapped on their arm. Loki's group is green, which when Tony next gets a chance he will most certainly exploit for his own entertainment. Foster's group is orange. And Natasha's group is blue. If they don't get colour-coded onesies, he is going to be very disappointed.

 

"Hey, mind if we crash your table?" One of Loki's female team members- Johnson, he believes- sits down across from him flanked by Simmons and Fitz.

 

"Go ahead." Tony's been a little reserved to join any particular group of people, so when he got his food, he just picked the table closest to him and sat down to eat. "don't think we're at 'no fraternizing with the enemy' yet."

 

"The enemy?" Johnson chuckles. "You think they are going to pit the teams against each other?"

 

"NASA? Nah." Tony shakes his head and spears some green beans. "Romanov, Odinson, and Foster? Oh yeah. In the end, there can only be five. And each of them is going to want their team to be both first and backup crew."

 

"So, it's going to be all Hunger Games in here?" Simmons looks both intrigued and terrified.

 

"I'm sure more of us will survive than die, but yeah, kinda like that." Tony doesn't smile when they blanch, at least not outwardly.

 

"D-do you think people will die?"

 

"Die, maimed, there's always a chance. Don't worry, I hear Odinson only sacrifices the two weakest for the benefit of the rest of the group."

 

"Here I thought scaring the newbies was my job." Natasha sits down beside him.

 

"Or mine." Loki leans into the table from the other side to steal a roll from the basket in front of them. He doesn't lean too close, but close enough to sneak a thumb brushing against Tony's arm. It's nice, very nice. "And for the record, I don't sacrifice the recruits in my group. I sacrifice recruits from other groups."

 

"Hey Stark," Natasha smirks at Tony after Loki leaves again- with apparently the entire basket of rolls. That bastard. “Watch the target on your back.”

 

They laugh, but Tony can feel Johnson's eyes glued on him. She must have noticed.

Yeah, the hint of a blush that's coming in on her cheeks. The way she takes her drink and has a long sip while reading the back of the cookie packaging on her plate. It'll happen. And it's best to just let it go. It's not like they officially broke up and no one knew they'd been partners. He does his best not to glance over at Loki who's sitting with the rest of his group and a few from orange and blue- now that Tony notices, pretty much everyone else tries to sit with or near Loki. Great. he is the unpopular kid in the class now. How the tides have turned. Well, clearly not unpopular, but really, there's a bit of a rockstar atmosphere happening over there.

 

"Don't listen to me," Tony grins at Johnson to change the subject. "I want you all to fail so I can be the first one to put my feet on Mars." It's then that his name is called over the PA system. "Now if you'll excuse me." He gets up and overhears the conversation that continues after he is left the table.

 

"He pretends he is tough, but he'd lay down his life for everyone here." Natasha says. "We all would. This is about teamwork."

 

"Good advice." Johnson nods. "But is what I've been hearing about..."

 

The rest he can't hear. There's a wave of laughter that drowns out whatever Johnson says next. By the time that settles down, he's at the door where he's flanked by Maria Hill.

 

"Hey," she says and ushers him along a big file in her hand. "We decided to start early on reviews. Every four hours- yes, even in the middle of the night- we're calling someone's name and having a good and long chat. We even have a hat and folded up pieces of paper and everything."

 

“Oh wow, only the latest tech for NASA!” he scrunches up his forehead. “So we're going to Mars in a refurbished Apollo capsule?”

 

“Here I thought that since half of you are familiar with a Soyuz, we'd just take one of those. Sure it is a little cramped and the shielding is less than ideal, but it will probably make it to Mars... even if the crew doesn't.”

 

“So how's this going to go?” Tony says as he sits down just as there is a knock on the door.

 

“Ms. Lewis is going to join us.” Maria looks up from the desk. “Come in! And then I'll go over your test results and we'll just have a conversation about everything.”

 

“Well, I know I did better than 270 people you cut.” He grins and leans back in the chair. Crosses his leg over his knee so he doesn't nervously tap his foot.

 

“You did, you really did. I wasn't surprised by your results.”

 

“No? Judging by how people look at me, it seems to be a surprise for pretty much everyone else.”

 

“Do you like that they are surprised?” It's an odd question, but yeah, Tony does like it. He tells Maria as much which makes her smile. “Good. Keep surprising everyone. Team Leaders change after every module based on scores within each team.”

 

“So what you are telling me is that Romanov's days are numbered?”

 

“What I'm telling you is that your scores were outstanding, but there are a few flags.” Oh, there it is. She flips open the file. “We're concerned about your ability to be a team player, especially for a long period of time. That's what they're going to look at most. We know you are a genius. We know you can fly. What we need to see is that you can do all of that as part of a team. Not just every member in your group, but every single recruit here.”

 

“That means what exactly?”

 

“Means you're the mentor for the ones who have less flight experience than you.” Maria smiles a little self-satisfied. “They have a problem, a question, an issue, anything that could possibly come up? They know they can come to you. The reason Odinson has them is because he needs more flight hours as a pilot and it's easier to have him go with the first time flyers rather than keep pulling him away from any other group he could lead.”

 

“So, my first few months here are going to be pretty quiet then.”

 

“That's good because you'll be busy training on the new vehicle.”

 

“New... vehicle?” Tony's voice cracks more than he'd prefer.

 

“Yes, your group gets the first crack at the Mars Transfer Vehicle controls.”

 

The noise Tony makes is utterly undignified and he doesn't care. The new vehicle is ready for training and his group gets to try it first. Usually, only astronauts selected for a specific mission would train on the vehicle that takes them there. However, the Journey to Mars changed everything, including how people are trained. Tony is fine with this. Hell, he is more than fine with this. This is fucking amazing.

 

“More teamwork. Got it.”

 

“There's just one more thing.”

 

“Yeah, of course.” He sighs. “Look, we have an agreement. Everything's on hold while we're here. This opportunity is too important to be squandered, we know that so-”

 

“Oh no, no, no,” Maria smiles and closes the file. “This isn't about you and Mr. Odinson, though the professionalism is much appreciated. This is about the pressure of the program and your...precedent.”

 

“You mean being a recovering alcoholic.” Tony says because someone has to say it.

 

“We just want to make sure that you are as supported as you can possibly be.”

 

“So how often do I see Ms. Lewis?” He works hard on refusing to read into that comment. If they didn't think he could do this, he wouldn't be here.

 

“Weekly,” Lewis chimes in, “for the first two months, then we go from there. I figure in the end I'll see most of them more and a lot less of you.”

 

“Fair enough.” It is fair. Maintaining his recovery will never stop, and Mars is really fucking far. He's lucky that the people in charge of the selection process believe in second chances. It makes sense that they want him to be as solid as he could possibly be. And he distinctly remembers telling Maria that he'll deal with anything they throw at him. This is part of anything. This is part of the training. Though, he has to admit, hearing that there's a lot less caring about him and Loki than he'd anticipated. Of course that's from Maria Hill, she is probably the president of their fan club. Maybe Johnson can join.

 

"That's all I have for now." She picks up the file from her desk and hands it to Tony. "Here, read the rest through and come to me if you have any questions. We'll make sure Ms. Lewis is in your schedule next week."

 

There are some mildly awkward handshakes and then Tony is free. He receives a handbook, a schedule, and a list of books that will be delivered to his room. Well, the room he shares with whomever will be assigned to the same room number. It changes after every module, because they want everyone to get along and well- not everyone will make every cut. They're co-ed, because in space it doesn't matter what bits you got between your legs. So, he could be sharing a room with anyone from Carter to Wilson. When he walks into room 613, he is genuinely surprised to see Steve Rogers standing there. Not who he thought he'd get paired up with at all.

 

"Looks like we're bunk mates, Stark." He says and keeps his voice neutral. His face is not though. Ah great, the blond and blue-eyed American Dream Doll is possibly a homophobe.

 

"Well maybe not quite that close, they did give us separate beds and kind of a room divider wall." He looks around.

 

The room is divided in half. This isn't like the room he'd slept in the first night, still allowed to share a space with Loki. A twin bed on either side and the two desks are against the dividing wall together with a small chest of drawers for their things. A side door leads to a bathroom which leads to another room. Four people to a bathroom. Not too bad then. Not a penthouse by any means, but it's also not a tiny capsule or a space station. Yet. It works, even if he is bunking with a guy he only knows from the periphery. Rogers was in the class after Tony's. They'd never shared a flight but he'd been Tony's replacement after alcoholism had rendered Tony a danger to himself and others. Maybe that's the guy's issue. Maybe he doesn't like alcoholics. Better than a homophobe, Tony supposes.

 

"Yeah well," Rogers drops his bag on his bed, "you stay on your side, I stay on mine, and we won't have any problems."

 

Maybe it's a bit of column A and a bit of column B.

 

"Sure," Tony says. Team work. Can't like everyone, but gotta work with everyone. And it isn't guaranteed Rogers makes it into the mission. All Tony has to do is be better. Also, he has kind of an ace up his sleeve still. "You hear what Blue's first assignment is yet?"

 

"We haven't been assigned anything yet." Rogers does look curious.

 

"I heard they are putting us pilots into the MTV to train while the kids are at flight school."

 

"You sure you are up for that? I mean-"

 

"What happened a decade ago? Yeah I think I got over it when I flew Orion around the moon." He smiles. "Don't worry, I won't fly us into the sun."

 

"I suppose we'll see." And with that, Rogers turns around and effectively ends their conversation. It's kinda rude. Not to mention petty, but Tony's not going to start anything. He goes for a walk instead.

 

The afternoon is rather pleasant. It isn't yet so hot people melt when they go outside. And it's also not so humid the air feels like breathing water. The grounds aren't necessarily the nicest, but there are a lot of trees and grass and enough to make the area immediately around the residence hall feel like it is in a park and not on an airfield. He can live with that. There's a lot he can live with. But it's barely been a day since he and Loki had left their apartment and he can feel a pang of missing what they had, wishing Loki to appear in front of him and accompany his walk. It's not enough to distract him, but it's there. He likes to believe that's a good thing.

 

"It's pretty nice out for once." There's Johnson again. Tony wonders if this will be a thing, everyone but Loki appearing for advice.

 

"Wait fifteen minutes." He chuckles and looks at the sky. Sure enough, in the distance, clouds draw higher, likely brewing thunderstorms. At least it's not a hurricane.

 

"So I hear." She pushes off the wall she is been leaning on, "mind if I join your walk?"

 

"Sure." He doesn't shrug. It seems rude. "I guess Hill's spread the word and all."

 

"Spread the word?"

 

"Or maybe not."

 

"Come on, you gotta tell now."

 

"This guy is responsible for mentoring the fledglings." Tony points at himself. He shouldn't feel so at ease around Johnson. He met her for the first time today, but oddly enough, she doesn't appear to be the silently judging type and after Rogers, he needs that.

 

"Get out, really? Rocket Man Tony Stark is my mentor? That's so cool!" She looks at him with genuine enthusiasm and some sort of giddy happiness. He's not blushing. he is not- "Are you blushing? Holy crap! Sorry, I don't mean to come across as some starstruck fangirl, but you are like my hero. Between you and May, there never was a time I didn't want to be an astronaut."

 

"Wow," Tony's at a loss for words. What is he supposed to say to that? 15 years ago, he'd have been flattered. He'd have known how to handle this. And he'd probably have slept with Johnson. But that was a long time ago. He's a different person now. "To be honest, I have no idea what to say. I mean, I could insinuate that you have the best taste in role models. Then flirt a little and then we go back inside." It's supposed to be funny. She is supposed to laugh and brush his comments off with a shrug.

 

"Mhm," she smiles and gives him a look he can't quite place, "maybe I'll take you up on that. Thank you for the talk." And with that, she separates from him his side and enters the building before he can say anything else.

 

"Shit." He runs a hand over his face. He just accidentally came on to one of the people he is supposed to mentor. Well done, Stark, he thinks. Well done. Let's get ourselves into trouble before we're here for 24 hours. Suppressing a sigh, he goes back inside, trying to tell himself it'll be okay. Best not to go after her and try and explain the situation. Maybe she was joking as much as he was. Best to leave it alone for a while. If he sees any issues come up, he'll talk to her. Until then, he's going to put his head down and stay out of trouble. Flight training should distract her enough anyhow.

 

When he gets back to his room, Rogers sits on the chair by his desk. Barnes, Wilson, sit on his bed, Carter and Rhodes on the floor. There obviously is a conversation going on which stops immediately as they realize Tony's walking through the door. He ignores that they pretend like they aren't following his every move as he walks into the room. It's not that Tony cares too much about making friends. However, he is an adult. And Rogers is an adult. Everyone here is an adult. He doesn't have time for petty high school antics. This is just about teamwork- and to be honest if Maria hadn't pointed that out in his talk, he wouldn't have cared about teamwork either. Rather just about getting ahead and on that mission. So, he does appreciate her heads up and will take her advice to heart.

 

"Didn't mean to interrupt.” He says before he sits down at his desk where the stack of books and manuals waited for him. "If you need some privacy, let me know." He smiles maybe a little too broad. Maybe a little too much like he's insinuating he's interrupted an orgy.

 

"We were just on our way out." Rogers says before any of the others can speak. "No worries. It's fine." They all start to move, find their shoes, and file out the door.

 

"Just put a sock on the door next time!" So maybe Tony's a bit of an asshole still, but Wilson snort-laughs, so he's got to be doing something right.

 

Once they are gone and it is quiet in the room, Tony sighs and leans back in his chair. He really doesn't want to get up again before dinner, so he cracks open the first manual: Mars Transfer Vehicle II - Ares I. Shit just got real. With quite a lot of reverence, he flips to the table of contents and wonders if Rogers got the same manual delivered or if he has a cheerleader in the higher ranks of NASA. A quick lean and glance at Rogers' desk tells him, yeah the guy's got the same books. But, he's not the one reading them right now. Tony's a genius. Before the alcohol, his memory was close to perfect when it came to studying. Things are different now, but there are adjustments he can make. After all, he learned how to fly Orion in less than half the time any other astronaut had been taught. So, he reads and gets lost in the words. A few pages in, he opens the drawer to find a pad of paper and pens and begins to take notes. He's here to be the best. This is how he becomes the best.

 

The sun drifts across the window and past the horizon without Tony noticing. He doesn't hear when Rogers comes back in to grab a book and his jacket. Nor does he realize that he's missing dinner because he lost himself in his readings. When darkness settles over the city, he has a pen behind one ear, a highlighter clipped to his collar, a pencil in his mouth and one in his hand as he takes notes on everything he reads and writes down questions he has for clarification later when he is in class. He doesn't hear the door open again or notice Loki walking into the room to stand behind him with a paper bag in his hand.

 

"You've settled in well." Loki says but Tony misses all the words and only hears sound behind him. Sound he doesn't expect. The startling flinch has him drop his pencil and scatter papers over the desk to the soft noise of Loki's chuckle.

 

"Fuck," he exhales and turns to look at Loki. "I didn't realize you were the- were you there long?"

 

"No," Loki smiles and puts the bag on the desk and sits on Tony's bed. "I didn't see you at dinner. Thought you might have forgotten humans get hungry." It's not that far from the truth, Tony realizes when his stomach growls at the mere mention of food.

 

"Sorry, I started the manual and I got carried away." He feels a bit sheepish for wanting to kiss Loki and denying himself to act upon the urge. "How was your day?"

 

"Good, I share a room with Romanov. I think that was not the original assignment but she likely threatened to shank whoever was my roommate before her."

 

"Well that makes sense, you lived together for almost a year in space. I was surprised you were okay living with me again after that."

 

"I didn't miss your tendency to leave your socks laying around everywhere, that is true. Are you settling in okay? Is Rogers nice to you?"

 

"Not sure yet," Tony gathers the papers and puts them on the table and closes the manual. "He's either pissed I got on Orion, doesn't like recovering alcoholics, is a homophobe, or all of the above."

 

"Perhaps, he could turn out to be none of them."

 

"Since when do you see the best in everyone?" Tony nonchalantly gets up off the chair and slides onto the bed beside Loki.

 

"Saw the best in you, didn't I?"

 

"It's because they made you Team Captain, isn't it?"

 

"You got it, go team, go." Loki raises his hands to wave invisible pom poms with the enthusiasm of a cat in the rain.

 

"It's okay," Tony leans to kiss Loki's jaw, because it feels natural to do that. "I'll be sure to beat your scores and relieve you."

 

"Fledgling Mentor and Team Captain?" Loki smiles but doesn't turn to kiss him. He also doesn't pull away. "What's next? Intramurals? NASA softball league?"

 

"You are such an asshole." Tony leans his forehead against Loki's shoulder and stays there for a while. He wants to say how he's not actually missing Loki, how he didn't even think of the guy while he'd been studying, because what he wants to say is screw professionalism and that Loki should swap with Rogers right now. Both options seem a little extreme in the moment. So what he says is: "It's not supposed to be this hard already." And that comes out in all the wrong ways.

 

"Really, Anthony? You know at your age that probably means you have taken too many little blue pills." He smirks and kisses the top of Tony's head. All the wrong ways indeed.

 

"You need to leave before I show you how much I don't need little blue pills with you around." He kisses Loki's shoulder, traces his tongue over the soft fabric of his shirt. "Seriously, I don't know when Rogers is coming back and my dick hasn't gotten the message that every day is not a thing any more."

 

"Oh that reminds me," Loki leans forward too fast and Tony's teeth click when his support vanishes. "Here, I did say you could borrow one." With a grin, Loki drops a sock in Tony's lap and stands up. He doesn't leave just yet. Instead he bends down and kisses Tony like he means it, like he is promising that as soon as they get leave they are locking themselves in a room and Loki's going to fuck Tony's brains out for a week straight. Only then and with a soft bite to Tony's lower lip, does he leave.

"God, I'm dating the biggest jerk on the planet." He smiles to himself until he realizes that yeah apparently his self control is sorely lacking. "You better disappear before Rogers gets back. He might think this is a response to him and you already have Johnson all excited."

Fortunately, Rogers doesn't return until after Tony takes care of his reaction under the shower, thinking of Loki and sending him semi-filthy snapchats. In fact, he doesn't return until after Tony's finished the food Loki brought him- corned beef sandwich, carrot and celery sticks, chocolate pudding, and a half dozen granola bars. All that's missing is a note that reads 'I love you' or 'study hard' or something to that extent. He'll be sure to let Loki know when he sees him next. No, Rogers doesn't return until after Tony's finished his dinner, brushed his teeth and had begun dozing off while reading on his phone in bed. Tony looks at the clock when he hears the door click: 0125. That's interesting. He's pretty sure even Team Leaders are supposed to be back in their rooms by midnight.

First couple of months are strict when it comes to rules. Lights out by 2300. No ASCANs out of bed before 0530. There are limits and curfews and all that kind of routine building goodness that comes with training. However, he's too tired to mention anything, and from what he can see when Rogers' face is lit by the light of his phone, the guy looks worried. Tony pretends to be asleep just as he steps across the divider boundary, no doubt to check to make sure Tony's asleep and hasn't heard him come in. And really, as much as Tony wants to pretend he has something on Rogers, he actually falls asleep before he can form the thought.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the timeline is a bit vague, it's because I needed Tony to be older but not too old to not make it. So, pretend the shuttle program ended a couple years later than it actually did and it's an AU to our timeline as well (which it is since it's now going to be the mid 2030s when they think we'll have someone on Mars and I'm getting them there in the mid 2020s)


	3. You've Really Made the Grade (There's Something Wrong)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which things take a turn

 

The alarm- no siren goes off before the sun gets her shit together and drags herself across the horizon. Of course it does. Tony remembers the drills. The immediate physical and mental exertion they'll face. It will give Maria and Fury an idea as to which candidates to watch out for, whether with concern or praise. Hell, in Tony's group, they had four drop-outs in the first week. It happens. No one faults people for knowing their own limits. Sometimes the goal is shiny and luring but the p ath isn’t what some may expect. Not everyone has that rare something it takes to be an astronaut. Astronauts are human extremophiles with a need for order. Not many people enjoy that kind of organized danger, especially the organization part. Sweating the small stuff isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.

 

Rogers no doubt also knows the drill and both he and Tony have the tell-tale dark circles and sallow skin after less than four hours of sleep when they get downstairs. Most of the newbies look nervous, with the exception of Johnson who looks so tired, she  might be sleep walking. Despite the nervous energy, none of the candidates look freaked out, and they settle down pretty fast clutching coffee and granola bars. That's a good sign. Means they can read the crowd around them. Important skill when it comes to being in space with only a handful of people. There are no nervous breakdowns and to Tony's surprise also no complaints about the 10k run that follows the sirens. Military folks, they are used to this and half the newbies are military. The run is not about who is fastest- the boy Maximoff followed by Rogers-, or who needs extra time and encouragement- Fitz-, or who comes in last- not Tony and that’s all that matters-, but from what Tony's heard, the guy who did is recovering from a gunshot to knee while deployed on active duty. The fact that he’s running 10k without stopping means he’s determined and knows his limitations. 

 

After the run, they are told to shower and come down for break fast. Of course there’s a time limit of 15 minutes and of course the military kids, are not only ready but they also made their beds to standard. Tony also makes his bed, by which he picks up the pillow and blanket he'd kicked onto the floor and puts them on the bed in roughly the order they are supposed to go. And hey, he isn’t the last person to make it back into the mess hall. The last person to make it to breakfast, well it’s both Barnes and Rogers. Surprising, but it doesn't matter though, no one’s late and there hadn't been consequences attached to being late just yet. Once consequences are set, breakfast is either a full warm breakfast or if someone’s late, cold oatmeal and coffee. The idea behind that isn’t to divide the group but rather to encourage them to identify who has a tendency to be late and how to get them to not be. Tony knows this because he'd been the one always late in the first week. Turns out, he takes longer to wake up than some people, so the other guys in his group assigned one person each day to get him up ten minutes earlier until Tony fell into the routine of setting his alarms earlier and eventually, he would set six alarms, ten minutes apart an hour before he needed to be awake. The point is that Tony understands teamwork, even if he likes to pretend he doesn't. He knows how this is supposed to work. Probably another reason why Maria thinks he can handle himself. And if he’s honest, he more than likely can. More so than anyone else here, because he’s been through shit he hopes none of the kids will ever go through. 

 

Still, he feels himself as a separ ate entity. Not that Tony isn’t great at talking to people and making friends and all that, but he finds himself more reserved. Probably something he should work on soon. Or now. He walks through the cafeteria. He isn’t exactly hungry, he never is after a run like that, but he does get the standard fare of fresh fruit, a couple of eggs, toast, and some chicken. Healthy, balanced meals and all that. The only person who looks disappointed over the lack of cold oatmeal is Natasha, but Tony's convinced she’s not human. Instead of choosing the closest bench to sit, he decides to sit down with his group, at least with Rogers, Barnes, and the Wilson who didn’t drop out. The three of them seem inseparable. Like him or not, they’ll be working together soon enough. There won't be time to cultivate grudges. 

 

"Hey, great run this mornin g," he nods at Rogers who briefly appears to look confused, but catches himself and returns the nod. 

 

"Yeah, didn't think they'd start us this early, but not bad yourself."

 

Just like that, the previous tensions disappear and they have a normal conversation. Barnes also got a head start on reading the manuals, so he and Tony compare notes. They talk about the kids going to flight school and eventually end up with a betting pool on which of the newbies is going to throw up first.

 

"Fitz, hands down," Quiet Wilson says. "That kid looks fragile."

 

" He’s Navy, they all have their sea legs." Rogers finishes the last of his breakfast. "I think it'll come down to what they ate in the morning. Stark, do you think Odinson's willing to part with that information?"

 

 

"For a price," Tony shrugs, "probably. Though he'll want in on the pool and that just opens the whole thing for sabotage."

 

"Or perhaps," Natasha slides in beside Rogers, "we don't bet on the demise or success of first time candidates because  some of us remember that there’s video of each and every one of us on reduced gravity air crafts. Let's think about that for brief moment and imagine what compilation of it would look like."

 

"Yeah you know what?" Tony shifts uncomfortably because Natasha has that look about her. That look that means that while she is joking, she has zero qualms over throwing them all under a bus for her entertainment. "Romanov is right, we definitely should not bet on the kids." He also knows what the videos of him contain. And apparently so do the others, because Wilson nods really fucking fast with everyone else.

 

"You’re right," he says, "would be in bad taste."

 

"That is what I thought." She smiles and gets up and joins Loki and the people surrounding him.

 

Tony doesn’t frown, not really. At least he tries not to make it obvious. He would like to sit with Loki- and he is well aware that he sounds like a middle-schooler in this case, but the whole separation is a lot harder when Loki is actually around. It’s little comfort that Loki feels the same way. And maybe, he’s staring a little too hard because Barnes notices him looking at Loki. The other two don't seem to have noticed. The look he shares with Barnes is weird, odd. It makes Tony feel uncomfortable because Barnes looks not only like he knows but like he understands. But he doesn’t say anything. The only acknowledgement outside of the look is a barely perceptible nod.

 

"Well I am stuffed," Tony says and takes his half-eaten tray to the waste receptacle, "gonna give the kids a hard time before they head off to flight training."

 

It’s not an escape. He means to leave. He means to give the new kids a hard time. It’s not just an excuse to go over there and to be away from that uncomfortable situation. It’s not that at all. And of course it’s also got nothing to do with Loki and Natasha sitting with the new kids. He does not have to wait for a perfect moment to insert himself into the conversation, Johnson notices him before he even makes it across the hall.

 

"Hey Stark," she half shouts, "I have a question."

 

"I’m sorry, no autographs." He jokes. "I will pose for a selfie though." There is laughter. Good. He has them on his side.

 

“Odinson and Romanov may have told us” Natasha shoots Johnson a look that makes the room feel cooler. “Okay, we may have overheard that you didn’t train for two years for the moon flight, but only six months. However, they also said we have to do the vom com in yellow latex suits which I know is bull. So, is it true?"

 

"Yes." It’s not something he is supposed to say and he cares dick all about that because yeah, he did fining training for a mission that needed two years in only six months and he aced it. That’s why he’s here. That’s why he knows he is going to Mars. "There was an emergency with a pertussis outbreak among the four people, which included backup, who were supposed to go and recovery would have put the mission behind by at least three months. In desperation, they turned to the only genius pilot they have ever had and the rest is- as you say history." He pauses for effect. "Oh and it’s also classified to hell and back, so none of you should be talking about this lest you lose your spot here...or worse."

 

Tony almost adds a smirk to take the edge of his voice, but he doesn’t because it’s likely it wouldn’t be their spot in jeopardy but his and he wants to go to Mars. So he doesn’t, but it wouldn’t have mattered because they look at him with the kind of awe he hasn’t seen from someone else in a long time. The last time he can remember is when he came out of rehab and Loki had picked him up. That mix of utmost awe and pride, having someone look at him like that, it feels great, and it feels like he finally means something again. He doesn’t need to glance at Loki to know he has the same look on his face again.

 

"It is an absolute honour to be in the same training group, sir," Fitz speaks up first. "Means if we make it and you don't that we are truly the best astronauts ever."

 

"Yeah you keep holding on to that if, because I am going to be on that vehicle. I am going to pilot that vehicle, sorry Romanov." He smiles and sits down across from Loki and beside Fitz.

 

"Who knows, maybe a whole other group trains as we are in a different location and we will have to compete with them also." Loki swigs back the last of his coffee. "Or by the time we get to mission training, someone else has been elected and funding will be cut."

 

"Or a natural disaster wipes out launch sites for the vehicle build rockets." Natasha chimes in. "Or perhaps something goes wrong with the building robots. The point is you never know what’s going to happen. The moment means the most. Do your best. Don’t compare yourself to others, the program will do this for you."

 

"And that, kids, is why they are the group leaders and I am not." Tony smiles. "But first, you need to survive flight school, because flying is so much better than boating."

 

"Boating?" Johnson laughs. "Nice one, Stark."

 

"Shipping? Boat driving? Captaining?" The table dissolves into laughter when Simmons jokingly remarks that none of them actually have any idea and that she is embarrassed on behalf of her fellow sailors because it is obvious that one also pilots a ship.

 

It’s a great atmosphere. They seem to be getting along really well and across from him, there is Loki whose hair brushes along his shoulders now. He has finished his meal and his coffee, but still idly plays with his fork in a pile of ketchup because he always has to do something with his hands when he is paying attention. Those beautiful long fingers, and fuck, Tony wants to take his hand, trail his tongue over each pad of each finger until Loki makes that ridiculously hot whimpering noise he does. But they are in the middle of the mess hall and that isn’t going to happen.

 

However, maybe he has to work on his stealthy gazes, because Loki catches his eyes while he says something to Johnson that Tony can't discern because fuck he knows that look, he knows that look so well. Somehow, he manages to continue breathing like a normal person, when he briefly feels Loki's shoe against his pant leg. He knows he’s not imagining things when he feels said shoe move along his calf. And then Loki leans back and smiles. Tony knows they’re about to break everything they’ve agreed upon, but that doesn’t stop his heart from pounding in his throat- and dick.

 

"Unfortunately, as nice as this is, we have some work to do," he gets up with slow, deliberate movements, "and I mean physical work. So get changed, meet me in the courtyard in half an hour. If you are late," he pauses and tilts his head ever so slightly, "believe me when I say you don't want to be."

 

"Yes sir!" Fitz and Simmons are the first ones gone. Johnson says goodbye to Tony before rounding up the rest of her group.

 

"I shall go find the rest of your team for you." Natasha says. "I won’t need to be back in my room for half an hour."

 

Why would she say tha- oh. Oh! Tony is surprised that she would be so out in the open about it, but really no one else is paying attention to them. If Tony’s learned something from his alcoholic antics, it’s that people pay a lot less attention to you than you imagine they would. Rogers is still involved in deep conversation with Barnes and Wilson. The entire Orange team is already off to likely science the shit out of things. The Blue group is free for another hour. They have engineering classes later. An hour. Loki has half an hour. They can do half an hour.

 

"Stark, could you return the piloting manual for the STS missions you borrowed?"

 

Tony did not borrow any sort of piloting manual, and especially not for STS missions, but that is not the point here. The point is that if someone overhears, there won’t be any suspicion that they are sneaking off to fuck in Loki's room in the middle of the day while Loki is supposed to be leading his group and Natasha is covering for him. In fact, this is all altogether unprofessional and if Tony were to listen to himself, he’d hear the part of him that doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardize their ability to remain in the program.

 

Six minutes later, he realizes that is in fact only an extremely small, miniscule, close to non-existent part inside his brain that believes that. The rest of his brain and his dick, stand in front of Loki and Natasha's room with some random binder he grabbed from his suitcase- Botany and Microgravity Handbook by Mark Watney- and knocks on the door.

 

The moment he knocks, his mouth goes dry. It has barely been a week and they’re already stealing away like teenagers. They’ve made it longer, with less desire when Loki was on station. It’s too close to embarrassing to be comfortable and Tony's brain nearly takes off with him and forces him to think too much but just then the door opens and there is no 'hello', no 'hey, I’ve been waiting for you'. No, it’s just Loki who silently grabs Tony by the shirt and pulls him into the room.

 

That's when Tony's brain is pushed aside by his dick- and his heart but he will never openly admit to such maudlin things. He doesn’t know if Loki locks the door but he assumes he does and kissing is more important right now. Loki's lips are hot and soft and full of want and need and oh god so much need. Tony kisses him hard, bites his lip, and smiles when the guy moans. Yeah, they’ve both wanted- no needed this so badly. He doesn’t expect Loki to grab him, switch them around and push Tony into the door to kiss him even harder, to move his kisses along Tony's cheek and jaw, scraping his teeth until he sucks and bites his pulse.

 

"Johnson has a crush on you." He states as he pulls Tony's shirt over his head.

 

"I-" Tony gasps when Loki bites just below his nipple. "I may have noticed."

 

"And you did not think to tell me?" Loki doesn’t beat around what he’s doing. His lips latch on to Tony's chest and he sucks and bites and licks and kisses until there is a beautifully purple bruise blossoming on his sternum. A bruise easily explained away by claiming walking into a door, a banister, dropping weights on his chest, anything but Loki putting it there to mark him.

 

"Didn’t think she was that serious." The way Loki kisses him after he says that makes him think she might be.

 

"She asked me what kind of people you like." With a growl, Loki grinds his knee between Tony's legs and fuck it feels so good, but there’s obviously a talk here happening, so part of his brain turns back on.

 

"What did you say?" Tony manages to push Loki off him and pull the belt from his pants and lube from his pocket. Loki would make an Eagle Scout proud. The way Loki grinds against him and turns around tells Tony a talk can happen while they’re fucking. He smiles as he kisses between Loki’s shoulder blades and pushes him against the dividing wall. "Did you tell her I was yours?" He grinds himself against Loki's ass, elicits a moan and fuck, if that is not the best sound he’s heard all week. "Did you tell her to stay away from me because I am nothing but trouble?" He scrapes his teeth over the nape of Loki's neck and pulls him closer.

 

"I to-" Loki moans when Tony slides his hand over his hip and between his legs. "I told her you have no type." He moans again when Tony tugs him gently as the words sink in. "Men, wom- fuck-en, you don't care."

 

And that is when Tony's brain interrupts and he stills, his hand resting on Loki's hip.

 

"You told her I sleep around with anyone?" Maybe in the moment of heat and passion, Loki's word choice had disintegrated to poorly, but Tony's brain has already latched on to the thought that the man he lov- that Loki told an interested party that Tony’s usually up for a good time. Judging by how Loki tenses, he realizes how his words sounded.

 

"No, I mean-," he turns around to face Tony, reaches to touch his arm, "it was supposed to be a joke. I didn’t mean-”

 

"But that is what you told her?" He takes a step back and does not look Loki in the eyes because he knows the man's face is going to make him forgive and forget.

 

"It was not a very good joke." Loki says quietly, still watching Tony. “I’m sorry.”

 

"Yeah, me too." Tony reaches for his shirt and pulls it over his head as his brain examines what just happened from all possible angles. "I gotta go, I-"

 

"Anthony." Loki reaches to take his hand but Tony pulls away.

 

"No, I can't. Not right now." They were supposed to be partners. They have been together for so long, been through so much shit that this hits Tony in the guts like few other things could. "I just- just give me a bit to calm down. My brain, you know what it does." He turns to leave and can almost hear Loki deflate behind him.

 

"I am sorry, Anthony."

 

"I know." He says because he can't just leave like this, but he also can't turn around and go back to Loki. He needs to digest, to calm down, and to take some time to just get over it and refocus on the big picture. "We have some free time after dinner, Rogers and his friends usually go for a late night run if you want to stop by, I would like that."

 

"Okay." Loki says but nothing more. It is obvious the guy feels like shit, but to be honest, so does Tony and that’s why he leaves quietly and closes the door behind him.

 

Sure, they have agreed to keep their relationship on hold or at least under the radar. But that obviously lasted a day and a half before Loki had come to him. Still, it’s not as though they had plans to just advertise it #spacehomos style. Tony gets that and they have had a very long talk about why that had been a terrible, terrible idea. And he gets that. But that isn’t why he’s mad. He’s mad that Loki’s implied that Tony hasn’t changed, that without the alcohol, he’s still some reckless playboy who doesn’t care who he sleeps with. And that’s what hurts.

 

Tony has left that kind of life well behind him. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with causal sex and not wanting to commit to a person. But he’d done this for all the wrong reasons, because he hid behind the playboy, billionaire, astronaut label to mask his own insecurities, his mental illness, his addiction. He’s no longer that guy and he has fought way too fucking hard to put this all behind him to gloss over a comment like that. He doesn’t deserve that and he knows Loki believes that too. So it was a stupid thing to say, but nine minutes while enough for an orgasm, are not enough to argue, calm down, and then talk it out. They just got the arguing in, but Tony knows they’ll talk tonight and figure out how to move past all this. They’re good at that. They’re good together.

 

"Hey everything all right?" He hears a voice as he walks to his room.

 

"Yeah." He turns around. He doesn’t think that he looks particularly upset, but maybe he’s fooling himself.

 

"Just tired, hell of an early morning, thank you though... Ward is it?"

 

"Yeah, Grant Ward." The man extends his hand which Tony shakes. "We haven’t had a lot of chances to talk."

 

"They switched you from Green to Orange, didn’t they?" Tony vaguely remembers something like that on their first day here. It had been pretty quiet.

 

"Yeah, for some reason my flight training didn’t show up in my record when I started, but when it cleared, it made sense for me to be on Foster's team. I am more of a science guy anyhow."

 

"Oh yeah what’s your field?" They walk along the corridor together, because as Ward had said, there hadn’t been much of a chance to talk and Tony’s trying to get to know everyone. If you are stuck in space together for years, you want to know your potential team mates. And follow instructions Maria Hill gave you.

 

"Geology, actually," Ward says, and talking to guy is like talking to someone Tony’s known for years. "Rocks are kind of my thing and very important on a mission to Mars what with sampling and all that."

 

"Yeah, we don't take rocks for granite." Tony smirks.

 

"I think we are going to get along just fine." Ward chuckles. "I know you have class in a bit and I think my team is going on a tour of the human research labs, but if you wanna hang out for dinner, Lang’s been wanting to pick your brain since we got here, but he’s a little star struck and scared to ask."

 

"The guy who holds two engineering PhDs in two completely different fields. Electrical and Aerospace? And then did propulsion on top of that for fun? Yeah, I'll be there. I haven’t had a chance for a major science talk in a while."

 

"Great!" Ward says and claps him on the shoulder. "We will see you at dinner."

 

After dinner, and what had turned out to be a fantastic time with Lang and Ward just chatting science, explaining things to Ward that were well outside of his scope of knowledge. It’s pretty fucking amazing to be able to do that. He and Loki don’t usually talk science, they talked politics and current events, philosophy and space travel, and of course science fiction, but never engineering. Loki’s not an engineer. Loki does Physics in ways Tony has never before seen, with an elegance that would never lead anyone to believe the man held a Masters in Fluvial Geomorphology and that he only had been accepted into his PhD program- astro-quantum-something- because his natural talent for Math and Physics was unsurpassed. Tony doesn’t do pure Math and he has never sought an understanding of Theoretical Physics. The universe is a hologram? Straight over his head no matter how many times Loki tries to explain. So it’s nice to have friends with whom he can talk engineering and after just one meal together, he really feels a friendship between him, Ward, and Lang.

 

But that isn’t what is in the forefront of his thoughts. As the euphoria of great conversation fades away, as he slips into sweat pants and a t-shirt before bed- rather than the cargo pants and polo shirts they wear during the day- the fight he had with Loki today comes back to his mind and by the time he is at his desk with his workbook and his homework, he’s preoccupied with what had happened. Studying and working on assignments doesn’t go well because every time he hears foot steps outside his door, he holds his breath and waits for a knock. But the knock never comes and the last time he perks up because he hears footsteps, and then the door opens, he’s disappointed because Rogers’s steps back into the room from his evening run.

 

“Hard at work already?” Rogers’s smiles, his hair is wet from the shower he no doubt took. “You are one to watch out for.” He sits down at his own desk, but sideways, still open to conversation.

 

“Yeah, I just had some kind of epiphany and went to work,” which is a blatant lie, he barely solved the first question and is sure it’s wrong. “But hey, have you seen Loki around? He was supposed to drop off a bunch of manuals.”

 

“Oh yeah, he was reading in the common room downstairs when I came in, been there all night. Didn’t even hear me when I said Hi. He’s probably still there if you want to go get them.”

 

“Ah you know, it’s not that important,” Tony makes a vague gesture to dismiss any urgency and to pretend he’s still as calm as he was when Rogers had come in. “I’ll just grab them tomorrow before class. Pretty tired after that early morning, gonna hit the hay in a few minutes.”

 

“Yeah me too.” Rogers says. “This is how we know we’re getting old, isn’t it?”

 

They laugh for a moment and wish each other a good night. Tony seems calm and collected when he puts away his work and slips into his bed. But when he plugs in his phone, his hands are shaking. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows Loki’s sent a very clear message and it’s very hard to not give into everything he is feeling right now, to give into anger or even tears. It wouldn’t be constructive and likely just make things worse. So, he sends Loki a message instead: _Thought you were coming by. Something come up?_

 

It takes nearly five minutes after the message has been marked as read before he receives a reply: _Sorry, one of the new kids got themselves hurt during work outside. Just got back._

 

Tony closes his eyes and bites his lip to fight back angry tears at the blatant lie. He either calls Loki out on it right now or he lets it go and hopes for an explanation tomorrow. He talks a few deep breaths. He lets it go: _Hope they are okay. See you tomorrow?_

 

The reply is almost instant: _Would be great, but really busy day. Rain check?_

 

Avoidance. Tony feels sick. _Sure whatever._ It’s not the most mature response, but right now he’s not the one who fucked up. He was mature about communicating his need for space. For a couple of moments, it looks like Loki is typing, but then it stops and there are no further messages. If that is how things are already, it won’t be hard to pretend they have no relationship. Tony puts his phone on the ledge in the wall above the head board and closes his eyes. It takes a very long time for him to fall asleep. He hasn’t felt this alone since before-

 

Fuck.

 


	4. Religiously Unkind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Tony makes choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings for explicit sexual situations, anxiety attacks and dubious sexual choices which are supposed to feel very uncomfortable

The rest of the week passes slow, incredibly slow. The day after their fight, Loki and Tony don't see each other at all, not even during meals. It doesn’t make things easier. It probably does make things worse, because Tony doesn’t believe in letting things hang and sends Loki a message in the afternoon. The response doesn’t come until the next day:

 

_I’m sorry. I can't do this right now. Talk after flight training, okay?_

 

Sure, fine, Tony doesn’t respond with the single letter k and writes _okay_ , because he’s trying not to be angry, but that is very, very hard right now. He is also trying not to be upset, which is even harder. He’s in tune with his emotions, but it’s a lot easier to be in tune with them when they are not thrown haphazardly about.

 

It gets a little bit easier once the week is over. He and Loki co-exist in the same space during meals, but they don't talk. It would be a lot harder were it not for Lang and Ward and the continuously excellent conversations Tony has with them. Seriously, Lang’s a genius. Johnson also joins them, and so do Fitz, and Foster. Every so often, Tony notices Natasha looking in his direction, concealed worry on her face, but she never engages a conversation beyond training related small-talk and the one time Tony tries to ask right out, she deflects and excuses herself. Of course she would be loyal to him. It doesn’t help Tony feeling as though the world has been pulled out from under him.

 

Despite all the talking and all the social activities, despite all the hard work and the ability to put everything aside to study and focus on his work, despite all of that, as soon as Tony is alone and without purpose, it hurts. Everything hurts, because now, without explanation, Loki doesn’t even look at him. That hurts the most. That there had been nothing to prompt this, because their argument the other week didn’t count. And now, now he is left to deal with the aftermath. He doesn’t even know what the aftermath is, at least not on Loki’s end and that puts them both in a fucking limbo, doesn’t it? How is Tony supposed to wait six months and then just have a talk with the man he loves? What if that’s enough time to fall out of love? What if he doesn’t and Loki ends everything? It’s barely been a month since Loki had told the driver to stop at city hall before dropping them off at the airport. It’s barely been a month since a city clerk probably risked their job to let them kiss as the ink dried. This selection is the opportunity of a lifetime, why does it feel like- Tony’s chest hurts. His chest physically hurts.

 

Tony gets up, his room empty, Rogers is who knows where. He stretches but the pain remains. It’s real physical pain in his chest, his arm, everything is tight and he can't breathe properly. He closes his eyes and counts to ten, but that does nothing either. Fresh air, he thinks, fresh air will help. Quietly, he leaves his room, smiling and stops to chat with a few people as he passes them. They notice nothing wrong. He’s trapped in a shell of normalcy while his insides feel like they’re slowly dying. He does not go out the front door, but walks toward the back door which leads to a small path that in turn leads to a park that only those in the program can access.

 

He pauses when the pain in his chest reaches a crescendo, when everything feels like it pulls so tight he might tears apart and if he had never felt like this before, he would think this to be a heart attack. He knows it’s not. He knows it’s an anxiety attack. He’s had plenty of them before, but none since he’d left rehab for the final time. He tries to count his breaths. Nothing. He tries all the visualization techniques he’d been taught but to no avail. Being out in nature is supposed to help but he finds that while he does feel a certain calming presence overall, it does nothing to curb the cramps that tighten his chest so much it feels as though he might lose consciousness. He can barely move his arm because moving it makes the pain worse. Standing becomes nearly impossible when the cramps shoot down his thighs.

 

He stumbles a few more steps, off the path, before his legs give out and he collapses at the bottom of a tree, panting heavily and hoping he will either pass out or that this will be the end of it. Neither happens, instead he hears footsteps. Fuck. The last thing he needs is to be found like this. It’ll be a notch against him, it’ll give him more sessions with Lewis and she’s already suspicious that he’s hiding something. Of course, the stress from those thoughts makes his body tense again, worse, and he can't do anything but whimper.

 

"Stark?" He hears Ward's voice. "Are you there?" It is too dark for Ward to see him, maybe if he stays still, he will go away. "I saw you leave, you looked kinda rough. I just want to make sure you are okay."

 

Something in that man's voice is so genuine in this moment, so genuine and calming that Tony can't help but speak: "I’m here." Possibly the most miserable sentence he’s spoken since right before Loki drove him to rehab all those years ago. But Loki isn’t here. Loki doesn’t care. Tony suppresses a gasp of despair when the pain of those thoughts rushes through him. Ward's steps crack twigs beneath his feet and Tony doesn’t look at him when the man kneels beside him. He can feel his cheeks warm with embarrassment to be found like this. The last thing he expects if for Ward to sit down beside him without asking any further question and just begin to talk as he hands him his water bottle. Tony gratefully takes it and chugs it back while Ward continues to talk.

 

"When I was on cross-training with the Coast Guard after I first joined the Navy, barely 18 years old, we were out sailing on this tiny schooner. There was a storm that no one expected. The weather forecasters, the Captain of the ship, the crew with at least 10 years of experience, and me who was on a boat for the second time in my life. None of us expected the weather to turn like it did. I had never seen anything like it in my life- still haven’t for the record. One moment, the ocean is calm rolling waves, the sun shining through the clouds, and I am working my ass off and the next? I am working my ass off not to drown in what I think, because I was thrown overboard.

 

"One of the guys jumped in after me just as the whole thing capsized. He pushed me back to a partially inflated life raft. Before he could get a hold of it, he was swept away by the waves. I never saw him again or any of them. At least one of them was trapped under the raft, must have gotten tangled in the ropes. I heard his screams turn to gurgles and then to silence. They rescued me three days later and it was heralded a miracle that I was still alive. Death happens to soldiers. It’s what we live with. I knew that, worked through my issues and moved beyond it. But five years later, I was at an aquarium with my niece. The penguins were her favourite so we watched them and one of them dove into the water from a height and it splashed on my skin. I’m not sure what happened immediately after, but when I can remember again, I was huddled in a corner gasping for air thinking I was having a heart attack."

 

He does not take Tony's hand but he shifts so their bodies touch. "You don't have to tell me what you’re going through, but I understand and I am here."

 

"And I won’t tell anyone, I promise you that." He adds and it is then that Tony decides to lean against him, not much but enough for Ward to know he appreciates everything.

 

"I have to tell Lewis, they'll kick me out if I am unstable." He sighs because he knows he is sealing his fate. He will be gone by the end of the week and with it any dream of possibly making it to Mars. They will likely assign him a desk job somewhere or if he is lucky Research and Development at JPL.

 

"Everyone has a bad day." Ward's voice is calm, reassures Tony. "It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you’ll work through it and be all the better for it. And if you feel like it might happen again, then you can always tell Lewis."

 

"I’m laden with conflict of interest right now," Tony sighs and leans his head against the tree. The pain ebbs and his breath has slowed significantly. He closes his eyes tightly. Something about Ward makes him trust the guy. "I’m sure you have seen the spacehomos hashtag debacle that gave NASA a bunch of crazy media there for a while."

 

"I might have come across it." Ward chuckles. "Thought it was a bit off-colour and not very tactful, but in keeping with your space cowboy image."

 

"Hey now. I am at least a reckless X-wing pilot." And for the first time in days, Tony smiles and it is genuine. "But it wasn’t just a temporary fling thing. Yeah, we never really said anything else about it, but we never hid either."

 

"Wait," Ward sits up a bit, "are you saying that you and Odinson-"

 

"Have been together for over five years? Yeah kinda." Not kinda, they’ve been together, but are they still? All evidence points to ‘no’.

 

"Trouble in paradise?" Ward says and Tony finds himself taken aback by how nonchalantly he just accepts that he’s just found out that Tony Rocket Man Stark and Loki Odinson are possibly _the_ gay couple with the potential to be the power couple of the decade.

 

"Little bit," he has to take a deep breath to fight back the tears, "I swear I am not normally so-"

 

"Don’t even think about it," Ward leans against him. "We’re friends. And this is what friends are for."

 

And just like that, Tony's walls crumble and he tells him everything. About the agreement to take a break to focus on their careers while they were here. To them failing miserably. To Tony feeling like an outcast because he has to essentially pretend that he and Loki hadn’t been lovers, partners, for half a decade. To their fight and how Loki stopped talking to him and how he now doesn’t want to talk until after flight school. He tells Ward how lost he feels, not because he pines deeply for his lover but because he feels betrayed by his everyone he thought he could trust. He tells him about Natasha and how she clearly has chosen sides. The words just spill from him and the longer he talks, the better he feels.

 

When he finally finishes, Ward's hand is on his, looking at him with genuine concern. He squeezes the man's fingers because he is grateful to still have a friend even though the feeling of not deserving anyone remains. That’s just his brain talking right now, he knows that but it doesn’t take away from the validity of his emotions. It’s something he’ll have to work through, but that’s for the future.

 

"That’s fucked up." Ward finally says not letting go of his hand. "No one deserves to be treated like that, especially not you with all the shit you’ve gone through."

 

"Thanks," Tony says as fatigue begins to creep over him, "I just don't know what’s going to happen."

 

"I wish I could tell you." Ward looks at him. "I really do. It’s messed up and he’s obviously not going to talk to you until it meets his terms. I’m sorry that is happening to you."

 

"Yeah well, welcome to being Tony Rocket Man Stark," Tony grimaces, "my parents should have called me Murphy."

 

"Hey," Ward tugs at his hand and is suddenly but a couple of inches from Tony's face, "you don't deserve this. This isn’t karma, this is one man and his actions. You are not alone in this, I promise. And to be honest?" Ward's voice drops a little as his thumb brushes against Tony's palm. "If I was your boyfriend, I would definitely use any excuse to make sure you knew exactly where we stand."

 

When Tony opens his mouth, he doesn’t expect to gasp ever so slightly. Grant's words travel along his spine like sparks. He swallows and Ward's thumb ever so slightly increases in pressure, ever so slightly moves closer or maybe Tony is moving closer to him. He means to speak, but all he can do is breathe, a little heavy, a little deeper, cool across his wet lips. He can feel Grant's breath against his skin, the touch of his thumb incredibly simple and incredibly intimate. He can feel his blood rush to his cheeks and to his dick. And like this, the sit for a while, miniscule movements that keep them from separating. In a haze of fatigue, and maybe he’s a little dizzy, too, Tony forgets about the fight with Loki, all the uncertainties it brought and finds himself in the moment with Grant.

 

"I-" his voice cracks when he finally manages to speak in a husky whisper. "I am not sure I have a boyfriend." Tony isn’t sure, in fact, he’s fairly certain that he doesn’t. While that should send him into a panic, it doesn’t. Instead he’s calm, lulled into tranquillity by fatigue and whatever the other thing is he’s feeling. He doesn’t question it, because it’s neither physical nor emotional pain.

 

There is a soft smile that spreads across Grant's face and Tony feels an odd flutter in his chest. It’s not anxiety, it’s something entirely different. He half expects Grant to say ‘good’ and close the gap between them and maybe he should because fuck, the tension is ridiculous. He’s pulled back into the moment when Grant shifts to whisper in his ear.

 

"I am here for you." He whispers and Tony can't suppress the soft whimper when Grant's lips brush against the lobe of his ear. "Whatever you need." His hand is on Tony's hip, thumb brushing the exposed skin there.

 

"I-" Tony shifts into the touch. He wants more, but his brain will not let him find the words. Ward appears to understand and his thumb slips beneath Tony's waist bad.

 

"Yes?" He whispers, lips pressed against Tony's ears. Tony shifts again, Grant's thumb slides to the front of his waistband his furled hand rests on the inside of Tony’s thigh, no doubt able to feel the erection growing in Tony’s pants. But he wants to know that this is okay, that he has Tony’s consent and in this moment, yes, yeah, he absolutely does.

 

"I wan-"

 

"Hey Ward? Are you out here?" Johnson's voice echoes across the park.

 

“Over here!” Grant shouts, his head turned toward Johnson’s voice. Tony’s heart races. “What’s up?”

 

"Foster wants you, Wilson, and Lang for something."

 

"Sorry," Grant whispers against Tony's ear, gets up, and jumps up out onto the pathway. "I thought I saw a deer!"

 

“A deer, really?” Johnson turns toward where Grant had come from and just in case Tony holds his breath. His clothes are dark enough and he’s far enough back that she should not see him. She doesn’t and turns back to look at Grant.

 

"Yeah, but it either got away or the stress is really getting to me these days." Grant chuckles and throws his arm around Johnson and there’s something odd in Tony's chest. "I’ll go see what Foster wants us to do and then meet you, and Fitz-Simmons back in the common room? I have to redeem myself for last night's Scrabble failure."

 

"You are such a nerd, Ward." Johnson cuffs him in the side and walks ahead.

 

Just as Tony thinks he is left alone, Grant turns to look in his direction, catches his eyes, or at least is fairly certain he has caught his eyes, and winks with a soft smile as he walks away. Fuck, the blood that had rushed away goes straight back to Tony's dick. They almost got caught and that’s a huge kink of his to begin with, but that look is a promise that things are not over if Tony is up for it. There’s no one else here. And while part of Tony's brain wants to feel guilty, but Loki's words were clear "I can't do this.” Which is a bunch of bullshit in Tony's mind. He wishes Loki had wandered outside after hearing that Tony had a panic attack. He wishes Loki had come out here, calling Tony's name with worry and that he would have found Tony, splayed out naked, riding Grant's-. He gasps when he realizes he is squeezing himself through his pants and closes his eyes for a moment, pretending it is Grant's hand. Pleasure sparks through his spine like an electric current. He switches his hand, the angle, and tucks his thumb into his own waistband and squeezes again. He’s hard, incredibly hard and imagines the things Grant would whisper in his ear. How he would slowly move his hand, like he had when he touched Tony the first time. Faintly, his conscience asks why he's doing this, asks why he thinks jacking off in the forest, during training, at work is something he should be doing. But the haze of lust, the haze of something, of that weird feeling he can't describe takes over before he can come to his senses. His brain shuts off and lets his body take over. He is hidden. There's no one else.

 

Still thinking of the things Grant would do to him, Tony opens the button of his pants and slides his hand inside, squeezes himself through his underwear and ever so slightly bucks his hips. He keeps the pressure, his breath quickens with his heart. He imagines himself naked in the middle of the forest, legs spread wide. He moves slowly, wants to savour this moment before he heads back to his new reality. It is then that he hears voices and in any other state, he would have immediately pulled his hand from his pants and made himself look like he merely went looking for a deer. Hey, it worked for Grant. But in this case, his hand merely stills in the hopes that they will pass soon. From his vantage point, he cannot see who is there, but he can hear laughter and familiarity in their whispers. He hears a faint whisper of 'wait' and hears nothing again until the park lights turn off. Eleven o'clock at night, almost curfew. He expects whoever is there to leave so he can finish the still thick erection in his hand. But they don't. Instead they come closer and Tony's heart races. He should make himself presentable, make himself known. 'Hey, did you see that giant deer?’ Anything but what he does which is start to slowly move his hand again. Maybe they would catch him, maybe they were Grant and Johnson, or Grant and Lang. Maybe Grant had brought company to finish off Tony. He can feel his cock swell and his head falls back. Faintly he can hear the footsteps walk past, then a shuffle past the tree line and for a moment, he believes he's about to be spit-roasted in the forest and comes right there in his pants with what he hopes is a subdued gasp.

 

"Did you hear that?" That’s Rogers' voice and for a moment Tony panics, then he stills. He can't be seen, not from all the way where Rogers and company are. 

 

"Probably just a deer, Ward said he saw one when he came back in." And that's Barnes.

 

And the next sound is a sound Tony knows rather well. He shifts to get a better vantage point and yeah, that is Steve Rogers making out with his best friend against a tree like they're teenagers. Tony should feel surprised or shocked but really, yeah in hindsight he can see it. That look Barnes gave him in the mess hall, the runs- yeah right- they go on every morning and every night. Unfortunately, shifting means he loses his balance and when his foot scrambles for purchase and snaps a larger twig beneath his feet.

 

"There’s something down there." He heard Rogers' voice closer. Shit.

 

"You really wanna go hunting for a dear?"

 

"You know I don't." Rogers turns back to Barnes and judging by his voice with a huge smirk. "I missed you too much."

 

"I know, it's hard, but we have this. And hey, we are going to have Mars."

 

Guilt hits Tony in the guts, twists them, and beads cold sweat on his forehead. Fuck. They worked this out. They are together. And from the maudlin sound of their voices it is some true fucking love right there and Tony had that and a simple text message drove him into some other guy's arms quite literally. Nausea hits him when he feels a rivulet of semen trickle down his wrist. He feels disgusting, filthy, and incredibly guilty. He tries to wipe his hand without making much noise, but it’s a forest floor which rustles. The sound echoes in Tony’s ears as he tries to will his heart beat slower. As he tries to calm his breath which would come in sobbing gasps if not for Tony's own hand muffling the sounds. 

 

"I swear that deer is trying to ruin the moment." Rogers chuckles.

 

"It’s getting late any way, half an hour before curfew and I want to shower."

 

"All right," Rogers leans to kiss him again, "let’s head back."

 

They walk, not holding hands but definitely close enough to not be mistaken for anything but a couple until they reach the path toward building when they break into a jog like they were actually going for a run every night. Tony waits until he can no longer hear the fall of their feet until he walks back and slips into the building just ten minutes before curfew. Ward and Johnson are cleaning up their Scrabble board in the common room still.

 

"Hey go for a walk, Stark?" He calls out. "Did you see the deer?"

 

"There is a deer out there?" He pretends to be surprised. "That is crazy. Maybe I will see it another night, but I am beat gonna sleep well tonight."

He is beat, completely beat. Still nauseated with guilt, Tony makes his way up the stairs and to his room where Rogers is sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at his suspicious when Tony walks in.

 

"Where have you been? Almost missed curfew."

 

Oh nothing, just having a panic attack and then masturbating in the woods while you and your boyfriend Barnes were making out.

 

"Went for a walk. Been a rough day." Tony pulls his shirt over his head and grimaces when he sees the streaks of dirt mixed from where he had tried to wipe his hand on the forest floor. He feels sick, so sick he has to close his eyes for a moment.

 

"You okay?" That surprises Tony. He knows Rogers is trying to get intel of whether or not he and Barnes were seen together. Yet his first impulse is to genuinely ask if Tony is all right.

 

"Been better to be honest." He can’t bring himself to look at Rogers.

 

"If you ever wanna talk," he doesn’t have to finish the sentence for the sentiment to come across.

 

"Thanks," Tony says and grabs his towel. "Long walk really helped. Gonna take a shower, sleep, and be right as rain tomorrow.” He feigns what he believes to resemble somewhat of a smile.

 

"You walk in the park? I hear there's a deer that has made its way into the place."

 

"Oh yeah? I will have to check that out."

 

"So you did not get to check out the park tonight?" There is a bit of an edge in Rogers' voice.

 

"No, I just walked the grounds until I got tired."

 

"Well, if you ever want to join us for runs at night or in the morning, just give me, Barnes, or Wilson a shout."

 

"I’ll do that. Thank you." Instead of that, he wants to say that he is not the kind of guy who just goes out for runs and night to keep fit. Even if he should be, but that is beside the point. He doesn’t know the kind of guy he is anymore. What he did tonight, Loki and he aren’t broken up, not yet, and still he was fantasizing about someone else, he was ready to initiate something with someone else, a colleague no less. He didn’t think he would be the kind of guy who just falls back into old habits like that but maybe there’s more truth to what Loki said than the guy even knew. Quietly, Tony slips into the scalding hot shower, wishing he could burn away how he feels.

 

 

 


	5. Hang on to Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Tony stretches himself a little thin

The day before the Green group leaves for flight training, Tony has enough of constantly avoiding Loki. They have to talk beforehand. This can’t wait several months and too much time alone inside their heads. Tony know how they both work and being alone and inside their own heads is the worst place for them to be. That is all there is to it. After breakfast, Blue and Green have an hour of leisure time. Loki leaves without Natasha or any of the others in tow, so that’s when Tony seizes the opportunity to follow him, to confront him, to just fucking talk. He catches up when Loki unlocks the door to his room.

 

"Hey." He says, firm and determined. He’s not here for an emotional showdown. He’s here for concrete answers. Loki looks up and Tony has to bite his tongue not to immediately start worrying. Loki's eyes have dark circles, he looks like he has lost weight, but that isn’t of Tony's concern. Not right now, maybe later, but right now if he starts with concern, there will be an emotional showdown.

 

"What do you want?" It is cold and distant, but something else is in Loki's voice. Something he’s trying to hide from Tony.

 

"To talk."

 

"I told you-"

 

"No," he steps closer to Loki, "you did not. You brushed me off completely. You only want to interact with me on your own terms and that is not fair."

 

"Fine," Loki sighs, "you want to talk? Talk."

 

"What the hell is going on?"

 

"Nothing is going on."

 

"Bullshit."

 

"I need time, Anthony."

 

"For what?"

 

"Figure out things."

 

"What things?"

 

Loki is silent.

 

"What things, Loki?" Tony repeats, irritated, but not too angry to miss the odd posture Loki has taken. He stands slightly hunched over, like he’s in physical pain.

 

"I can't." He replies and turns to walk into the room. "I just-"

 

"Need time, but we both know that is bullshit." Tony moves to follow him. "If you can't tell me, if something is wrong, you can-"

 

"Oh please, Stark.” Before Loki can continue his phone beeps. Text message. Tony knows that tone well. For a moment, Loki stands silent, reads the message, and then looks at Tony. "You really want to know what’s going on?"

 

"I think that’s more than a little bit obvious."

 

"I’m fucking someone else."

 

A beat passes while those words sink in.

 

"What?" Tony must have misheard.

 

"I’m fucking someone else." Loki repeats in the exact same tone.

 

"Who?" Tony feels stunned, his tongue heavy when he speaks.

 

"Doesn’t matter. Depends on the day." Loki says, his voice detached and nonchalant. "I would have told you that I haven’t been feeling us since I got back, but then we got into the MTP and you seemed so happy. Didn’t feel like being the reason you throw your life away again. "

 

"We got married, Loki. Married. Some city clerk risked their job to forge a date on a marriage license." Maybe he has stepped outside of his body, Tony feels like he is no longer in control of his limbs and what holds him up is merely the arrangement of bones and muscle that makes up his form.

 

"Oh but do not worry yourself with that, Stark," Loki has the audacity to smile. "Turns out she was caught and our marriage annulled. The letter arrived at our apartment this morning. Miss Parker was nice enough to let me know.”

 

"Is this a prank?" Tony's head is swimming, much like yesterday he realizes he can't breathe. His side and chest feel tight. Again. He can’t do that again.

 

"Of course not, that would be incredibly cruel." Loki's phone chimes again and he looks down at the screen. "I have to get ready to leave in the morning. If it’s any consolation, we at least won’t be around each other for a while and that can give you time to process."

 

The door closes and Tony stands stunned unable to make his body move. He closes his eyes and hates himself when he feels hot tears run down his cheek. His entire life just collapsed in front of him and there had been no warning. Passing out right now would be ideal, but isn’t an option, not if he wants to stay in the program. He takes a few deep breaths as he turns around and walks away from Loki's door. His mind races, but he can't hold on to a single thought. He fumbles for his phone, hands trembling as he tries to type a simple message while he walks.

 

_I’m not okay_

 

The phone rings moments later.

 

"Where are you?" Grant's voice is there, but Tony can't bring himself to speak. "Hey, Tony? Where are you, you don't have to move, I will come and get you."

 

"Fourth floor," is all he manages.

 

"Stay put, I’ll be there in two minutes."

 

However, Tony's mind doesn’t let him stay put. He can't be on this floor. He can't be this close to Loki, to the kind of betrayal he had never once expected in all their time together. Fuck, they’ve been friends for nearly a decade. Maybe it’s a dream, a nightmare, maybe if he shocks himself enough, he’ll wake up and it’ll be over. Maybe this is the kind of dream someone has right before they get their selection call. Maybe if he wakes up, he will wake up beside Loki in their bed in their apartment under their sheets naked and in love like they are-were- oh god please wake up.

 

How he ends up fully clothed in the pool downstairs he is not sure. Well he figures he jumped in but he has no memory of getting here from the fourth floor. Nor the thought process which led him to the conclusion that this was the best course of action. The water is cool when he hits it, enough to startle him, but not enough to wake him. He doesn’t want to be awake already. He wants the call, wants it to be a rejection so this-

 

"Hey cowboy," he hears Daisy's voice behind him in the water, "I think you may be slightly overdressed for the pool. Well unless it’s an exercise and I am supposed to expect all of Blue jumping in here shortly."

 

"No," Tony says and runs a hand over his face. “I just got a really dumb idea in my head and had to follow through." He doesn’t trust her enough. Maybe Loki's fucking her. Maybe Loki figured out he is straight after all, but why the horrifying revelation. Why the theatrics? He takes a deep breath. "Really stupid idea." Like believing he could be happy in his life. "I’m sorry."

 

"Hey no worries," Daisy shrugs and swims to the side of the pool and pushes herself out of the water. "When you are done with the dumb idea, we have a Scrabble war going on during downtime tonight. You should join us, someone has to kick Simmons's ass. That woman is a walking thesaurus." She smiles and wraps herself in a towel as she walks out leaving Tony alone in the pool.

 

Almost instinctively, he takes a deep breath, inhales as deep as his lungs will let him before he dives beneath the surface and swims to the bottom of the pool. It is quiet here, silent, nothing but him and the water. The light refracts and draws swirling shapes on the bottom of the pool and for a moment, Tony feels like he’s back in space, like he is back where he belongs. He is at peace down here. Letting out a few air bubbles, he watches them float to the surface. So he lets out a few more and then a few more. His lungs don't burn yet but he can feel the heavy tug of needing to breathe slowly spread throughout his chest. He can feel the pressure of the water against his rib cage, so he lets out a few more bubbles and watches them as they whimsically dance to the surface. The world is so far, he thinks and lets out more and more, exhales slowly into the pool before him. Maybe this is how it is supposed to end. Maybe this is what he needs to be at peace and maybe this is best for both of them. No more complications. He lets out the rest of the air.

 

The thing with not being able to breathe underwater when one can swim excellently, the thing with trying to suffocate, the thing with trying to drown oneself in cool but by no means cold water is that the body wants to live, especially when the mind isn’t really certain about what it’s doing. The body wants to live and it prevents Tony from inhaling a bunch of water, dumps adrenaline into his blood stream and tells his arms and legs to move. The world isn't peaceful when he breaks through the surface of the water and gasps and coughs inhaling deeply for air. He is still alone when he pulls himself out of the water. Good, because he isn’t sure if he could handle the embarrassment of getting caught trying to do whatever it was that he had just done. He is still confused and angry and incredibly upset, but he has no plans to just squander this opportunity so easily.

 

As he pulls himself out of the pool, coughing still, dripping wet, his phone- which thankfully was in the pocket of his hoodie which he must have conveniently dropped at the edge of the pool before jumping in- chimes. He wipes his hands on his hoodie and pulls it from the pocket. There are eight missed calls, five text messages- _chime_ \- six text messages, and two voicemails. All from Grant.

 

_Hey I am on the fourth floor but you're not here_

 

"Hey Tony, where are you now? I’m worried, just let me know you’re safe."

 

_Went to your room, you’re not there, obviously for you I guess. Let me know you’re safe even if you don't want to talk_

 

"Hey just me trying again."

 

_Tried the common room. Just give me a hint?_

 

_If you want we can meet at that spot in the park._

 

_Johnson said you jumped into the pool? If you need to talk I’m here_

 

_Seriously, just let me know you’re okay. I’m coming downstairs_

 

The door opens just as Tony reads the last message and opens his keyboard to respond.

 

"Do you need to talk?" Grant says as he stands in the door. "I feel dumb for asking because it’s pretty obvious you do."

 

Tony just kind of shrugs and sits down shaking like a leaf from nerves and adrenaline in a heap that is probably too sad to fucking look at because Grant is immediately beside him and pulls him standing.

 

"Come on," he says as he pushes him up, "let us get you some dry clothes and we’ll go for a run to get some of this energy out of you."

 

"I think that may actually be a good idea." Tony says and finds that his voice doesn't shake, despite his expectation that it would.

 

 

***

 

 

It takes a week of Tony listening to Natasha be their leader, a week for her to pretend like nothing ever happened. A week of classes and training and classes and studying, going for runs with both Grant and the late night runners- and maker outers but he does not kiss and tell or in this case snoop and tell but whatever. A week until he gets tired of Natasha's deliberate aversion of talking to him. They need to talk, if not about Loki then simply about the fact that it would be a lot nicer if she looked at him when he spoke to her. They still have to work in a team after all.

 

They let the team leaders keep their now solo rooms, everyone else who lost a partner had been roomed with someone from the other team. 21 instead of 30 feels a lot different. Maybe it’s because the Green group were pretty loud and social, but things seem calmer now. Not necessarily better, because Tony did enjoy the company of most of that group- with obvious exceptions. So, he decides that he and Natasha need to talk and Natasha must have decided that this cannot happen at any cost because every time he tries to get her on down time, she has some excuse of why she needs to leave.

 

This is why he stands in front of her door right now. This is why he knocks and when she asks who it is, he merely says- and loudly: "Are you fucking Loki?"

 

It’s not how he intended to start the conversation, but when she opens the door, grabs him by the arm and pulls him inside, well that opener did what it was supposed to.

 

"Are you out of your mind, Stark?" She hisses at him while he tries not to look at the empty side of the room.

 

"I don't know, am I?" He crosses his arms. "You’ve avoided me since he decided to- move on." It comes out sounding a little more like Loki died, but Tony can't think of the words 'cheated on me’ just yet.

 

"And that means I am sleeping with my best friend?"

 

"Who else would it be? It would to have been someone he already knew and someone who is here which frankly literally just leaves you. So I will ask again, are you sleeping with him?"

 

"Loki is gay, Stark. You should know this."

 

"Sexuality is fluid."

 

"What is wrong with you? I’m not having sex with your husband!"

 

"Well he’s not my husband any more so technically, that means nothing."

 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Natasha looks at Tony like he’s grown a second head. She doesn’t know. Of course she doesn’t.

 

"We- the clerk forged the date on the license so we could get married that day. She got caught, it was annulled and part of me- no, all of me thinks he tipped someone off." Saying it out loud is worse than thinking it. Tony feels nauseated, dizzy, and all he wants is to get out of here and lock himself away from the world until he can focus again.

 

"What?"

 

"I said-"

 

"I know what you said."

 

"He didn’t tell you.”

 

"No, he did and this is all acting to make you more agitated," Natasha rolls her eyes. "Of course he did not fucking tell me."

 

Tony closes his eyes and runs his hand over his face, "so you are not sleeping with him."

 

"No, don't be gross, that’s like sleeping with my little brother." Natasha makes a face clearly trying not to imagine Loki naked. At least there is that reassurance. However, something in Natasha’s face is suspicious, not of Tony, but he knows when her brain has geared up to full capacity to out what the hell Loki's done and why. ” He told you he was sleeping with someone else?"

 

"I’m surprised he didn’t tell you? I thought he tells you everything."

 

"We are not like sorority sisters or little girls at sleepovers. There is no braiding of hair or pillow fights, and we certainly don't tell each other everything."

 

"What do you do when you hang out?"

 

"Sit in silence, sometimes watch movie, but that’s beside the point." She looks at Tony. "He told me you had both decided to go back to taking a break so as not to distract but you were apprehensive and getting distance would help." So that’s why she avoided Tony, helping distance.

 

"Why would he lie to you?"

 

"Because he knows I would put him through the bathroom door if he told me he’s cheating on you, that’s why."

 

"Fair enough." That makes him feel marginally better about accusing her of adultery. Though out of everyone, it might have been the least awful if Loki sleep with her. "I don't know what I did wrong."

 

"You did nothing wrong, Stark." Natasha smiles, but it isn’t genuine or comforting. It barely masks the rage and anger she no doubt feels.

 

"Would you find out for me who-"

 

"Don’t ask me that." She snaps at him. "Don’t ask me to choose between my best friend and you, especially when I just found out he’s an idiot.”

 

"I’m not- okay maybe I am, I just- I don't understand and I want to, but he’s gone now, there’s no way to contact him without official channels, so it doesn’t matter any way." Tony turns toward the door. "I’m sorry I accused you of sleeping with him. That was a dumb thing to do." The 'I hope we are okay' is silent.

 

"Tony if you want my advice," Natasha says, her lips pressed thin, "don't torment yourself waiting for him. Maybe things can work out in the end, maybe they can’t. That doesn’t matter right now. You are a great astronaut. Don’t let this get the better of you. I need you on my team to Mars." The 'yes we are' also is silent.

 

"I won’t." Tony means it. He has to move on and focus on getting to Mars. With Natasha. “And can we keep this quiet? The last thing I need is everyone’s pity.”

 

She merely nods and squeezes his shoulder. That’s all he needs right now.

 

He leaves and spends what time they have outside of classes in his room trying not to think about Loki. It’s hard. The next few days are harder and then, without warning, it becomes easier. Maybe it’s because there are no reminders of Loki or because his team mates and friends know something is up and do their best to support him even if he doesn’t tell them. Or maybe it’s both, but one morning, Tony wakes and Loki isn’t the first thought on his mind. Or the second. He doesn’t think of Loki the entire day.

 

A month later, his mind rarely returns to what happened. And when it does, he finds someone with whom to run for a while. Today, it’s Grant. Today, it’s a bit rough because he woke up dreaming of Loki kissing his way down Tony’s chest murmuring apologies. Judging by how much energy he has to run outside in the middle of the day when it’s too fucking hot, yeah, rough start to the day indeed. They run and it isn’t until they are at the far end of the park when Grant slows down. They’re both drenched in sweat.

 

“Hey, what’s going on?” Grant starts but that’s not what Tony needs right now. No talking.

 

"I don't want to talk." Tony pants as he walks with his hands on his hips trying to get more air. He needs to catch his breath and run more, that’s what he needs to do.

 

"Fine," Grant waves tired, "I think you just bested my own minutes per mile, so let a man have a drink." He leans to lap from the drinking fountain before filling the water bottle on his belt. One thing so great about the facility’s park and trails is that water’s available pretty much anywhere. In a place as dry as Texas, a place that has been in drought for over five years now, that is a commodity worthy of deep appreciation. They are astronauts in training. They are the smartest of the smart and the most skilled of the skilled. And in the end, they are just fucking people. And fucking people also, but the sentiment stands.

 

"I don’t want to talk about it, but," Tony says and he is uncertain why, just that he hasn’t told Grant everything yet, he might as well tell him the rest. "If I do, that just brings everything back."

 

"What happened?" Grant extends his hand with the water bottle he just filled. “Drink that before you pass out.” Tony makes a mental note to remember to bring his. He keeps forgetting and in this heat, that’s a bad move.

 

 

"I had a dream." Tony shrugs and doesn’t talk again until he’s half drained the bottle. "It’s stupid, I know, but… I never told anyone else, because I want to focus on getting shit done and being the best I can be. Admitting that I wasn’t the only one he shared a bed with, that I was falling apart with my relationship- I didn’t want to jeopardize. That’s why he broke up with me. "

 

"He fucked around on you?" Grant’s expression is sympathetic but also something else, suppressed anger, Tony assumes.

 

"Yeah." Tony makes a face and is surprised it doesn’t hurt as much as he expected it to hurt. "Yeah, he fucked around on me." Tony takes the bottle and drinks.

 

"I’m really sorry, Tony." Grant says. “And I’m sorry you didn’t feel safe enough to share this until now.”

 

"Me too."

 

"What are you going to do?"

 

"Keep working like I have. Be the best guy I can be and make it to Mars." Tony stretches for a moment and yeah he does feel oddly okay. "I feel- I am not saying I’m okay just yet, but a month is a lot of distance and I’m not going to let this opportunity go. It means too much to me." Tony turns to hand the bottle back to Grant, and as he does, their fingers touch for a brief moment and all the weird stuff that had happened a month ago, the feelings that had accompanied the moment, it all flooded back. So Tony doesn’t let go, not yet. He wants to know something first.

 

"I know we never talked about what happened," he says, "under the tree."

 

"Yeah?" Grant looks oddly worried.

 

"I’m not looking for something to replace what I had."

 

"I get that." Is that disappointment on Grant's face? "We’re friends, and nothing is going to change that." But he also doesn’t let go.

 

"But what about fun?"

 

"Fun?"

 

"No strings attached kind of fun." Tony smiles.

 

Grant doesn’t answer immediately and shit, maybe Tony's overstepped a boundary he shouldn’t have because whatever happened back then, he isn’t sure that offer still stands. And it seems kind of a dick move to assume it does.

 

"I like fun." Grant returns the smile and takes the bottle. "But maybe not in 90 degrees when we are both about to pass out from the heat."

 

"What, you’re too weak to withstand a little extra heat?" Tony feels relief above all. Nothing wrong with a little fun to take his mind off some stupid dream.

 

"Just looking out for my old man friend."

 

"Get off my lawn." Tony grins and sprints down the trail. It does not last long because 90 degree heat indeed. Grant catches up with him and laughs when he sees Tony standing bent over, hands on his knees trying to catch his breath and maybe not throw up.

 

"Don’t laugh, offer an old man some of your water!" He half laughs, half coughs and chugs the other half of the bottle in one draw before handing it back. "Shit, what does NASA put in the water to taste this damn good?"

 

"I think that’s just the heat talking," Grant says and wipes his brow. Fortunately, there are water fountains at 500 metre intervals and no matter what Grant says, he’s pretty sure that the water is this delicious not because he is sweating buckets and half dead in the Houston heat, but rather because the water is just damn good. Probably extra filtered enriched with minerals for astronauts to grow big and strong for their journey to Mars. He wouldn’t be surprised. He feels energized, and despite the memories of the dream, he feels quite great. When he turns back to run, he stops mid movement when a deer stares at both of them.

 

"Shit, Tony," Grant whispers, "That is a fucking deer."

 

"It’s real! I thought you made that up but it’s real." Tony hisses back and when the deer skits away into the forest, on a whim, he follows it.

 

"Hey where are you going?" Grant follows him.

 

“I wanna check it out.” Tony’s already hip deep in the underbrush by the time Grant catches up to him.

 

“You sure?” But Grant doesn’t try to hold him back from walking further between the trees. It’s much cooler here than it is on the paths directly in the sun, but Tony doesn’t really feel the heat at this point. A month in Houston surely is enough to acclimatize, he thinks and continues to push further.

 

“Yeah, I’m sure. Gotta figure out where the deer came from. Next time, we need to bring our phones, y’know so we can take pictures.”

 

They never take their phones on runs. At least Tony and Grant don’t. A lot of the others bring their phones in arm holsters to listen to music. Tony doesn’t. He runs to get away from the stimulation, not to experience more of it. Right now getting away from stimulation means climbing over a fallen tree into shoulder-high bushes or grasses or whatever- he’s no Watney- who have seen better days. Right now getting away means making it through those whatever plants to the clearing he can see behind them. He hits fence before he hits clearing. Damn it.

 

“Maybe next time.” Grants pats him on the shoulder and turns to leave to go back to the trail, but Tony catches his arm. Not enough to forcefully hold him back, but enough to silently ask for him to stay.

 

Grant stays and Tony pulls him closer, brings his hand to his lips and trails his tongue along Grant’s index finger before sucking it into his mouth in open invitation. And when the man nods, Tony sinks to his knees.

 

 

"We’re going to be late for class." Grant pants a few minutes later, as he leans against a tree while he tucks himself away.

 

"Late? Shit what time is it?" Tony scrambles up wiping the corner of his mouth.

 

"Ah fuck, we have ten minutes." The satisfied smile falls when Grant realizes the time.

 

To their credit, they’re only five minutes late albeit wearing their running clothes, without notebooks, and probably smelling pretty- no make that definitely smelling awful when Barnes visibly leans away from them. And really, after the stern look he gets from their instructor, he should want to pay better attention than he does, but he feels so energized, so content and happy? Yeah, kind of happy like he has a new lease on life. Sure, he’s tucked into the waistband of his underwear because even after the shock of being late, he’s still half hard. Maybe after class, he and Grant would be able to finish what they’d started.

 

Fortunately, he’s also smart enough to know the answer when he is called upon even without listening. He and Lang could teach this class easily enough both having PhDs in similar fields, Lang aeronautics and Tony robotics. Three- well two hours and fifty five minutes pass quickly and after Grant walks with him toward the lunch room, stopping quickly at a rest room to put some hand sanitizer in his arm pits and wash his hands and arms up to the shoulders.

 

"The fucking deer is real!" Tony exclaims as he sits down beside Lang, Grant across from him in a table in a corner by a window where Lang had been reading.

 

"The deer is real?" Lang raises his head. "Did you fall on your run?"

 

"No, we saw it." Grant nods and bites into his burger. "Right on the path, staring at us."

 

"Did I hear you say the deer is real?" Rogers perks up across the hall. "Bucky, you owe me five bucks."

 

"I didn’t see the deer. You didn’t see the deer. The terms of our bet were very clear."

 

They bicker for a few moments and it’s beyond Tony that no one else notice the gentle looks, the almost stolen touches which stop when Wilson joins them. And the three fall back into their routine, pre-occupied with each other. Tony notices that Natasha isn’t here. Beside him, Lang is back in his book, completely enthralled. Tony is about to comment on the read, when fatigue hits him hard. So hard, he can barely keep his eyes open.

 

"You okay there, Stark?" Lang’s voice, not Grant’s. When Tony looks at him, he doesn’t seem to notice, but continues to eat his food.

 

"Yeah I think the heat got to me more than I thought." He should care more about Grant’s blatant ignorance of how he’s feeling, but Tony’s preoccupied with the spinning world around him.

 

"I was just going upstairs anyhow," Lang says as he shuts his book. "I’ll walk you, make sure you don't pass out on the way."

 

"Thanks." Tony says and by the time they make it to his door, he’s dizzy and nauseated. He doesn’t know when Lang leaves, but he does know that it takes him two steps into the room before he rushes into the washroom and throws up what little he ate at lunch. Just wonderful. With a groan, he crawls into bed, shivering, still in is running clothes. He does not even kick off his shoes.

 

When he wakes, it is dark, but he is not alone, he can hear typing on the laptop from Rogers' side of the room. On the floor beside his bed, Barnes sits with his tablet reading quietly.

 

"Shit," he groans again and feels like his mouth is the desert, his eye lids are sandpaper, and his head is going to explode. "How long was I out?"

 

“Just under 24 hours,” Barnes says and sits himself up on his knees. “Lang got Romanov and Steve when you started throwing up. We took turns making sure you’re okay.” He pauses. “Are you okay?”

 

“I think so?” Tony’s head is killing him. He’s cold from the sweat evaporating from his skin and clothes. He’s tired, but the world isn’t spinning and he doesn’t feel like he’s going to throw up again.

 

"You’re awake." Rogers sounds and looks relieved when he leans to look past the dividing wall.

 

"What? Yeah, but-" before Tony can finish, he hears the guy pick up his phone.

 

"He is awake. And- I don't know, let me ask," Rogers' face appears from the other side. "Does your head hurt?"

 

Tony's response is a groan and hiding his face in his hands.

 

"I think that is a yes.” Barnes notes, still watching Tony closely.

 

“Thanks, we will see you shortly." All of Rogers appears on Tony’s side of the room and the man sits on the edge Tony's bed. He’s far enough from Barnes to look profession, like they aren’t pining to touch each other. “You pretty much just passed out after throwing up. We couldn’t wake you, so I called medical.”

 

"Shit." Tony says because he isn’t sure what else to say.

 

"Medical stopped by twice already, but from what they can tell, it must have been heat stroke and your body just needed to sleep it off. You were kind of lucid this morning and drank some Gatorade, but yeah we were worried."

 

Blindly, Tony fumbles for his phone. It is dead. Ugh. He plugs it in and when it starts up, there are a couple of unread messages.

 

_Ward said you’re not doing too well. Hope you feel better!_ from Johnson

 

_Sorry I broke you, old man. But seriously, hope you are better by the time you read this._ from Grant

 

He lets himself fall back on his bed while he waits for medical to arrive and wonders what the fuck kind of day he’s had. Medical arrives, two nurses, and they take his blood pressure, temperature, figure out his hydration levels, and tell him to stay the fuck in bed. Well, maybe not quite like that. When they are gone again, they changed his sheets, and left a case of electrolyte drinks, a handful of protein bars, and some acetaminophen for his headache. He is not allowed any strenuous activity for the next two days and on bed rest for the next 24 hours.

 

"Thank you, Rogers, Barnes." He says after he finishes the first bottle- citrus, nice.

 

"Hey no big deal." Barnes says as he grabs his jacket to return to his room no doubt.

 

"No really," Tony insists, because it is a big deal. "I wasn’t sure I had any friends here, and now I know I do."

 

"Any time, Stark." Rogers smiles and walks Barnes to the door.

 

After three bottles of Gatorade, two trips to take a piss, and one and a half protein bars later, he changes out of his clothes into proper bed time clothes. Washes in the sink and then goes back into bed, his sheets changed while he was in the bathroom. Yeah, it may be a hard road to Mars, but at least he knows that no matter what, his team has his back.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took forever to edit! The next one is 12k and kind of needs to be turned into two chapters which may take a little bit longer. I do have everyone's isolation pod exercises written out. Would you be interested if I put them up as a chapter within the fic itself or separately as part of an appendix (I would also be posting conversations from other POVs and scenes that Tony's limited POV wouldn't allow us to see)? Let me know!


	6. If Only I Could Make You Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out, er, long, but there wasn't another way around it.

 

Two months after Loki left for flight training, Tony begins to fall into a regular schedule with ease. Today, he wakes at 0520- only needs two alarms to get him out of bed- and slips into the bathroom before Rogers wakes up at 0530. A two-minute shower later, he stands in front of the sink and brushes his teeth. He looks at himself in the mirror for a long while he swishes mouth wash, leans to splash water on his face, and spits into the sink.

 

"Hey, ready for that 10-mile run today?" Rogers asks when Tony leaves the bathroom at 0535.

 

"You’re just happy the Maximoff kid is gone so you can be the fastest again."

 

"I don't think it matters who the fastest is, so long as Wilson, Barnes, and I end up Top Three." Rogers grins and ties his shoes opting for a post-run shower.

 

This time, Rogers loses the run to Wilson, but Tony somehow manages to get past Barnes in the last couple of hundred metres and finishes third. His personal best since- well, in a very long time, maybe even his personal best ever. When they get back, he’s pretty fucking elated. He goes to class with his group while Orange gets to do its turn on the 10-mile trail. Then there is dinner and after dinner, he goes to the common room to meet Grant and Lang for a night of scrabble, but Lang isn’t there. And neither is Grant. His phone chimes.

 

_Lang’s out asleep. Went to the park to look for the deer. Come join._

 

Tony replies with a simple _be there in 5_ and walks out the back door. It’s a pleasant evening. Fall’s coming to an end, so the temperatures while still quite warm in comparison to New York, are comparatively cool. Tony’s just glad there’s no snow on the ground. And that he’s still comfortable in shorts and a singlet. He finds Grant not far from the entrance sitting on a bench with his calf resting on his knee.

 

"I’ve been sitting very still for half an hour and nothing. However, I think I heard it mocking me from the forest over there."

 

"Fitz would say that without proof, it doesn’t exist." Tony smiles and sits down on the bench beside him. "At least it’s a beautiful night for mockery."

 

"It really is, and it reminds me of," Grant starts and then they talk. They’ve done that a lot since Loki left. Talk. The offer of unattached fun still there, but neither of them acted upon it since Tony put out the offer for the first time. Maybe it’s respect for their friendship, or maybe it’s because Tony thinks that training is more important than fucking around. Or maybe he feels that if things go slow, this could be more. Grant's sexuality is more along the lines of how Tony views his own. Maybe there can be something there if he gives it time. And he does and they continue talking as time slips away and they don't notice the lights go out.

 

"And then she said, oh but that is not what I ordered, sir in this incredibly stern tone for a five year o- shit, it's after one." Grant blanches as he looks at his phone. It’s after probationary period, so they are all well on their way to truly becoming astronauts headed for Mars. The midnight curfew was lifted for Friday and Saturday nights but still is in place on week days. Which means when they make it to the doors, they are locked and likely armed.

 

"How are we supposed to get in?" Grant hisses but Tony motions for him to follow.

 

"Loading dock." He whispers. "Deliveries start to arrive in a couple of hours, so it doesn't make sense to arm those doors. Someone is always there, but we might get lucky."

 

It requires quietly making it around the entire building toward the road. Technically, they could just ring the bell and be let inside and just take the punishment, but that wouldn’t be fun. Fun is waiting in a dark corner with Grant waiting for the first delivery truck to arrive. Fun is when the drivers go for a smoke at the side of the road- smoking anywhere close to training facilities is forbidden- and Grant steals two musty ball caps from the cabin of the truck. Fun is pretending to be delivering food and sneaking into the building that way. It’s still hilarious when they hear voices from the corridor in front of them and in their panic hide behind the first available door.

 

Just their luck that the door led to the world's tiniest broom closet where there is barely any space for the two of them, let alone the two of them and all the cleaning supplies in the world. They ran in here, so immediately, Tony loses his footing, Grant right behind him. He falls backwards, propped up only by the armful of broom handles that lean against as shelf. Grant shuffled, trying to catch himself, but gravity has it out for both of them and Grant crashes against Tony. They laugh until Tony tries to shift and Grant tries to get up wedging his thigh against Tony's crotch. Then Tony gasps and the laughter ceases.

 

The moment is brief, Grant raises his eyebrows to ask if this is okay and Tony mumbles 'yeah' and pulls him closer. He needs him closer. He didn’t realize until now that he’s so fucking touch starved that when Grant's hands slide beneath his shirt, he wants the moment to freeze right there. It doesn’t freeze and clumsily rocking back and forth, they grind against each other in silence, only their shallow breaths and the muffled noises that filter through the door can be heard. Tony comes biting Grant's shirt and Grant tenses- in silence- and they still.

 

When they catch their breath, they chuckle, still quietly, and listen at the door. Tony ignores the part of his brain that’s a little disappointed with rutting in a closet like teenagers. He ignores the vaguely nagging feeling that threatens to pull him back to that night in the forest. By the time they make it to their respective rooms, it’s nearly four o'clock in the morning. And sure enough, within an hour of him changing clothes and laying down in bed, he’s woken up and banished to cleaning and maintenance duties between classes. So much for getting lucky.

 

It’s rough, but both Romanov and Rogers slip him coffee and caffeinated chocolate. He doesn’t see Grant all morning, today isn’t a day they share classes. Grant’s also not around for Scrabble night, but Tony can't blame him there. If anything, the guy is probably just as exhausted as Tony. No way they caught Tony missing and not noticed Grant. Barnes joins them instead when he passes and sees Grant missing.

 

“Got room for an outsider?” Barnes doesn’t sit down until Lang pats the chair beside him.

 

“No outsiders here.” Foster smiles and slides Barnes the bag of letters.

“And without Simmons, it’s actually no longer a fight for who wins second place.” Lang grins and takes a picture of the board. A few moments later his phone chimes. “She says she’ll be back to take her rightful place as our benevolent leader soon enough.”

 

They play and talk and it’s good. He jokes with Barnes over the validity of Lang’s four letter choice and it’s a text from Simmons that reminds them that it’s a rooster and they’re all 12 and that waiting to use cockerel would have been a more elegant choice. Tony falls asleep in his chair pondering over using triptych without triple word bonus or settling for tripped. It is neither, because Foster nudges him awake and tells him to take a leaf out of Grant's book and go to bed.

 

“Come on, old man, let’s get you to bed.” Barnes says as he stretches. “I gotta grab a book from Rogers anyhow.”

 

“Sure that’s the only thing you’re grabbing?” Tony yawns and it comes out before he can think. Barnes stops in his tracks. Fortunately, they’re already out of earshot. “Fuck, look, I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to say that. It’s really none of my-“

 

“We’re trying to be discreet.” Barnes’ face is impossible to read, but his body is tense.

 

“You are,” Tony sighs as he speaks, “I think the only reason I noticed, is-“ because Tony saw them make out in the park just a few months ago, but then he’d have to explain why he was there, why he didn’t make himself known, and why he didn’t mention anything before this moment. “-similar boat, I guess. Glad it’s working out better for you than it did for me. And I haven’t and don’t plan on gossiping about your torrid love affair with America’s golden boy, Steve Ro- hey!”

 

Barnes cuffs him in the side with an almost-smile. The tension melts away so fast Tony wonders if he’s been waiting all this time for someone else- no it wouldn’t be someone else. Someone else already knows: Wilson, Rhodes, and Carter. Tony doesn’t believe for a moment that they don’t know. No, Barnes specifically wanted to trust Tony with this. Tony, who now feels like a jerk for not realizing sooner that they weren’t just friends, they were close friends or at least had the potential to be. All this time, he’d spent with Grant, he hadn’t really focused on being the team player he should or could be. He’d already known. Lewis had made sure to mention it, and he’d made sure to mostly ignore it. He knows he should vow to do better, but instead he pats Barnes on the back and slides into bed to sleep.

 

Tony does wake up feeling different and he tells Grant that he’s been slacking off on being a better team player. And Grant agrees that he could do better and promises he’ll help. Things return to routine and it’s another month before Grant pulls him into an empty classroom.

 

“You’re doing so well,” he whispers as he grinds his hips against Tony’s. “Overheard Lewis talking about you,” he nuzzles Tony’s neck and slides his hand into the front of Tony’s slacks. “Think you deserve a reward.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Tony feels his voice break as he swells in Grant’s hand. Grant who nods and whispers small encouragements into his ears until Tony comes with a muffled cry. With a smile, Grant strokes him through his orgasm, and neatly puts his slacks back together, even tucks Tony’s shirt back into them. When Tony moves to reciprocate, Grant just smiles and moves just out of reach.

 

“Reward, remember?” He winks and disappears from the room, leaving Tony still catching his breath.

 

Their encounters happen more frequently after that but in the end, Tony feels as empty as the rooms they hide in. The whole thing becomes more about mechanical need than emotional attachment, or so he tells himself. The nightmares return, the kind that are laced with fear of failure, the kind that wake him up, panting, crying, and sometimes at the verge of another panic attack. It’s Grant he messages for help. It is Grant who comes find him when he’s sitting in the corner of the bathroom after everyone has left for lunch. Grant who brings him water, tells him to take small sips, gently caresses Tony's cheek and praises him for a job well done when he finishes the water.

 

It doesn’t matter though. Tony’s always on edge these days it seems. No amount of running, no amount of hot showers, and no amount of time spent with friends seems to make a difference. Being alone helps to an extent. Maybe he is just overwhelmed by the magnitude of what he’s trying to accomplish. Maybe he’s still reeling from how Loki left. Maybe less time with others is a good thing. He does not exactly withdraw, he still spends time with people, but his focus shifts back to studying and what little time is left, he spends with Grant.

 

Though Grant does encourage he spend more time with others, but recommends he focus on people he isn’t closely familiar with already. People like Foster, Morse, pretty much everyone on the Orange team. With the exception of Lang, who must have decided to hang out with someone else, because Tony doesn’t see him any more outside of classes and even then, their interactions are brief and distant. Scrabble night has already been on indefinite hold. Not that Tony minds, he has enough on his plate. So much that he and Grant decide to run together twice a day rather than Tony running with Barnes, Rogers, and Wilson in the evenings. Sometimes- and more often in recent days- their runs lead off the path and into the forest where Grant tells Tony to be a good boy and get on his knees. And Tony does because he has nothing better to do and feeling Grant’s cock in the back of his throat, the man’s hands pulling at his hair as he thrusts into Tony’s mouth, that takes his mind off the nightmares, the unease, and the void inside his chest.

 

After a while- a few weeks perhaps, Tony gets used to the emptiness. The mundane sense of it all is what makes it better: wake up, run, eat, socialize, classes, meet Grant in an empty classroom, classes, eat, run, rut in the forest, study, sleep. Whatever it is outside of routine doesn’t matter. It’s a routine and it helps him focus. Focus so much he doesn’t notice Rogers' worried looks and ignores Romanov's attempts at conversation. He still attends his psych evaluations biweekly and with some coaching from Grant, he gets a perfect bill of health every time. And soon, there is only a month left before Green returns from flight track, before the first cuts are made, and before they’re separated into non-colour teams to be dropped in the wilderness for weeks at a time with nothing but a knife, their clothes, and their wits.

 

A month which means that preliminary score rankings for the teams are revealed in an effort to stir some competition between the top three in each group. The top recruit would become leader and the new groups would be arranged based on scores, but also on expertise. Grant has class when the scores go up, but Tony is in the common room reading when they do.

 

**Rank/Team**

| 

**Orange**

| 

**%**

| 

**Green**

| 

**%**

| 

**Blue**

| 

**%**  
  
---|---|---|---|---|---|---  
  
1.

| 

Foster, Jane

| 

92

| 

Johnson, Daisy

| 

87

| 

Romanov, Natasha

| 

93  
  
2.

| 

Ward, Grant

| 

85

| 

Simmons, Jemma

| 

85

| 

Rogers, Steve

| 

91  
  
3.

| 

Temple, Claire

| 

84

| 

Maximoff, Wanda

| 

81

| 

Wilson, Sam

| 

91  
  
4.

| 

Lang, Scott

| 

84

| 

Fitz, Leopold

| 

80

| 

Stark, Anthony

| 

89  
  
5.

| 

Morita, James

| 

81

| 

Odinson, Loki

| 

79

| 

Barton, Clint

| 

87  
  
 

 

 

He doesn’t read further than his name. Not in the Top 3. There’s a chance he can make his way to three as only two points separate him from Wilson but next to none he could become number one in his group. Still, Top Four is huge. It doesn’t register that Loki is barely ranked fifth in his team and lowest Top Five score overall. Tony doesn’t think to look before he moves on, to Grant's room- who since he was the odd one out had his own room after Fitz left. He makes it into the stairwell before Barnes appears in front of him.

 

"We need to talk." He says and doesn’t wait for a response but ushers Tony outside, looking around like he’s worried someone will see them. Tony lets him, brows furrowed with worry.

 

"What is going on? Everything okay?" Barnes is usually more collected than this. Something had to be wrong, but Barnes says nothing until they are well on their way to the park. Even then he’s twitchy, eyes sunken in like he hasn’t had proper sleep in weeks. Barnes even looks thinner, skin sallow, sweat on his forehead and upper lip. Tony remembers he isn’t in the top four of their team. Maybe that’s what’s eating away at the guy.

 

"What are you doing with Ward?" He finally says, but it’s not a gentle inquiry. It’s a right out accusation.

 

"Is that any of your business?" Tony raises an eyebrow. The tone throws him off, because of all people Barnes should understand.

 

"He’s using you." Barnes whispers and ushers them along off the path and into the wooden area. He looks paranoid, glancing around him, stopping to listen. It doesn’t help the anxiety which Tony barely buries under the surface. If anything, the way Barnes behaves stirs it, intensifies it, bristles against it in all the wrong ways until Tony feels his throat tighten and chest ache.

 

"What are you talking about?" His voice is gravelly, thick, and he desperately needs to swallow but his mouth is dry.

 

"I overheard him talking with someone. There’s something going on here and you’re part of it. You’re their pawn in this- this game they’re playing.”

 

"Don’t be ridiculous." He turns to walk back to the path. “Come on, all this stress is getting to you. Let’s go inside, have some tea, and you can tell-“

 

"I can’t! They’re always listening.” Barnes looks around and lowers his voice. “I think they know I’ve stumbled upon something. Someone remotely accessed my computer and my phone and I’m certain they’ve gone through my things while I was in class.”

 

“Bar- James, stop.” Tony puts his hand on Barnes’ shoulder. “You’re not okay. Let’s go see Doctor Cho or even Doctor Lewis.”

 

“You can’t trust any of them.” Barnes recoils from Tony’s touch like instead of a hand, Tony put a flame to his shoulder. “I don’t know how deep this runs, but I’ll try to find out. If you meet me after lights out tonight in the library, we can figure this out.”

“I’m not getting myself in trouble because you’re having a breakdown.” Tony runs a hand over his face. “Look, I want to help, but I can’t help you like this. I’m gonna go back inside and let Rogers know you’re out here, okay?”

 

“You can’t trust Ward. He’s not acting in your best interest." Barnes hisses. Tony’s surprised by the rage in his eyes when he mentions Grant. "I think you are in danger.”

 

"I’m not in any danger, but I’m worried you might be. I’m going to go now. Either come with me, or don’t move and I’ll let your friends know you’re here.”

 

Barnes looks surprised and worried, and oddly, he also looks incredibly confused, but he doesn’t move. Tony feels bad leaving him, but he doesn’t have his phone and no one else is out here because they’re all likely still flocking around the board. He makes his way through the underbrush and back to the path. When he’s inside, Grant’s is on the other side of the door, like he’s been waiting for Tony. It strikes him as odd, but he shakes off the feeling and blames it on Barnes’ paranoia.

 

"Everything okay?" He asks and looks out the door. Like he’s expecting someone else to be there.

 

"I don't know, I think Barnes is cracking." He follows Grant up the stairs and to his room. "Can I use your phone, I should tell Rogers that his- that Barnes needs him and some kind of medical attention.”

 

"His what?” Grant hands him his phone and walks over to the mini fridge by the bathroom door. He pours Tony a drink- sparkling water with lemons and lime. Tony takes a drink before answering Grant's question.

 

"Friend? Buddy I guess?" Tony shrugs and drains the glass. He doesn’t know why his brain won’t let him tell Grant about the relationship the two have. "I really think the training is getting to him."

 

"Friend you say. Huh." Grant says nothing else for a moment. "Hey, I have to go meet with Foster in a few minutes. Talk later? You are seeing Doctor Lewis today, aren't you? Maybe you should mention Barnes to her if you think he may be in need of help."

 

Tony agrees with the suggestion and indeed does mention Barnes to Doctor Lewis during their session. She thanks him for the input and promises to make sure to check on Barnes, but that she’s hopeful it’s simply the post-ranking stress everyone experiences. Not Tony. Tony just always has stress lurking beneath the surface, constant anxiety, constantly shot nerves, but he mentions none of that because he knows he will be ejected from the program and deemed mentally unfit to continue as an astronaut.

 

He thinks nothing else of it. He preoccupies himself with studying harder, getting better, sneaking off with Grant more often. He has one month to hit Top Three in his group and that is what he is going to do. Tony takes his book on propulsion with him to dinner every night now. He gets more done this way, though he discreetly keeps an eye out for Barnes or even Rogers, but neither of them appear during meals over the next week. It’s not until two weeks after the ranking that he sees Barnes again: looming over him suddenly. Tony hadn’t even heard him approach.

 

"Stark," the guy says and he looks rough. If he looked rough two weeks ago, he looks like he should be in a hospital bed. The rings under his eyes look like bruises, his hands shake even though he isn’t moving them. His lips are dry and chapped, dried blood sticks to the corner of his mouth. "You have to listen to me."

 

"Look buddy, I get it, this is really fucking stressful, but you need to stop." Tony’s seen this before. He’s looked like this before. “You need to see Doctor Cho like yesterday.”

 

"I can't." He looks at Tony with bloodshot eyes. "I know- I know what he’s capable of. I know what he’s done, I figured it out."

 

"Who? Ward?" Tony stands up and puts his book on the table. "Come on, let’s go see Doctor Cho right now. I don't know if you got into something or if this is a breakdown from all the stress, but you need someone to help you and she can do that."

 

"She won’t listen!" Barnes grabs Tony's arm, fingers digging painfully into his skin. “None of them will!”

 

"Barnes, let go of me.”

 

"Not until you listen." Barnes looks desperate. Tony’s surprised to see tears well in his eyes. Maybe there’s a chance Tony can talk him down, at least get Barnes to let go of his arm and sit down so he can call for help.

 

"Let him go." Tony hears before he can say anything. Grant stands at the entrance of the cafeteria with Lang and a few others who watch, most of them look shocked. Some seem to have expected something like this.

 

"I can't." Bucky runs his other hand over his face. It twitches for a moment when he tries to hold it still. "I know what you’ve done, what you’re willing to do, and he needs to be warned."

 

"I don't know what you think I did," Grant raises his hands, "but if you let him go, we can talk this out."

 

"No," Barnes shakes his head. He’s crying or sweating or both. Profusely. Tony notices his lips are split from biting them. "I can't. Not until they know what you did, what you plan to do."

 

"What the hell is going on?" Someone must have messaged Rogers, he looks like had come running. Tony exhales relieved. "Bucky?"

 

"They have to know what he plans to do, Steve." Tony wonders if he could aim an elbow well enough to stun Barnes and get out of his grip.

 

"Come on," Grant says his arms still up, "let Stark go, you don't want to make a scene in front of your boyfriend, do you?"

 

"That’s not helping." Steve hisses, but the words take a moment to sink in with Barnes who looks at Grant and then at Tony.

 

"You," he stares at Tony for a moment, then grabs him with the other hand as well and drives him against the wall. For a moment, Tony sees white flecks. From the corner of his eyes, Tony can see everyone begin to move. Fuck.

 

"Let me go, Barnes, please, don't make this worse." One of Barnes’ hands is wrapped around his throat, the other digging into his shoulder. They stand there like this for a moment, both breathing heavily.

 

"You told him!" Barnes breaks the silence shouting and punches the wall hard enough for his hand to disappear. That’s when everyone moves. Everyone scrambles to get to them. He drops Tony and looks straight at Grant. "You can't do this. Someone has to stop you. I have to stop you.”

 

The scramble that happens next leaves Tony on the floor, kicked a few times in the shuffle as Rogers and Lang try to throw themselves in Barnes' way to stop him. By this point, everyone has poured into the mess hall and Doctor Lewis arrives just as Barnes lands the first punch right beneath Grant's eye socket. The fight is brutal. Grant no longer tries to reason or pull his punches. His eyes are just as dark with rage as Barnes’ are. Barnes fights as though he’s in a fugue state, blinded by whatever kind of breakdown he’s going through. But Grant, Grant fights like he means to hurt the guy, like he means to systematically hurt him instead of taking him out.

 

"-an incident, we need backup and an ambulance now!" Doctor Lewis runs towards them. "Stop!"

 

Grant holds up his hands immediately. Barnes doesn’t, probably can’t, but Rogers, Wilson, Lang, and Romanov grab him, hold him back. He doesn’t calm down. He fights, his eyes glazed over, distraught, genuinely wild and Tony can't help but feel pity, feel guilty that he hadn’t done more to try and help Barnes.

 

"Stop, Bucky, please," Rogers keeps repeating. He looks like his heart broke into a thousand pieces when he’d first walked into the mess hall. "Please Bucky, listen to me, listen to my voice."

 

Barnes screams and manages to push Lang hard into the wall. With a strength that Tony- and probably none of the ones holding him back- hadn’t thought possible, he tears himself from Romanov and Wilson's grip.

 

"Rogers let go!" Doctor Lewis commands. He does and Barnes moves to sprint to Grant, but he stops dead in his tracks, his entire body convulsing as he collapses to the ground. Two prongs of a taser sticking out of his lower back, thin wires connecting to the device Lewis must have pulled from the sizable purse over her shoulder. It’s over then. Barnes is on the ground, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Lewis detaches the wires from the taser and rushes to kneel by his side, to feel for his pulse.

 

"Thready but fine." She looks at Rogers who kneels on the other side.

 

Just then, the doors open and a bunch of security and medical staff pour in. Everyone but Rogers is ushered away from the scene, told they would be debriefed later. Tony turns around a few times to look for Barnes who is restrained and placed in a stretcher. Rogers attempts to go with him, but that’s when he’s told to join the others.

 

Tony closes his eyes, because he gets how that must feel. There is a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach when he watches Barnes on the stretcher and Rogers leaning against the wall with his hand over his eyes. Tony wants nothing more than to go to him, to say something that might give him any sort of comfort, but he can’t because he failed Barnes when he came to him for help. How can he face Rogers after that?

 

"I don't understand how someone like that could have gotten past the mental health screenings." Grant says when they are in the common room waiting for debriefing.

 

"Hey," Wilson says as he sits beside Rogers who looks utterly exhausted. "Show some respect. We don't know what happened."

 

For a moment the air is tense. Tony can see Grant ball his fists and that seems odd, but then he grimaces and nods.

 

"You’re right. I’m sorry, I do hope he gets the help he needs."

 

 

By the time it is Tony's turn to be debriefed, he’s starving. But of course, he doesn’t get the luxury of being allowed to eat. He sits down in Pepper Potts' office where she, Lewis, Nick Fury and some guy Tony has never seen before are sitting behind her desk with notepads.

 

"So, Mr. Stark," the guy is wearing a blue tie, Blue Tie Guy it is, "what do you think happened here tonight."

 

"Well I think that was pretty obvious." Tony leans back in his chair. Something about the guy doesn’t rub him the right way. The fact that no one introduced them, suspicious at least and for a brief moment, he wonders if there’s something to Barnes’ story after all. "Who are you?"

 

"This is Alexander Pierce," Fury introduces him- finally- and Tony likes Blue Tie Guy better. "He is an associate of mine, think of him as a neutral third party."

 

"Sure," Tony shrugs.

 

"So what was so obvious to have happened here, Mr. Stark?" Pierce repeats.

 

"Barnes had a rough time, it got to him, he snapped." It seems straight forward to Tony. He’s not sure why there’s a need for so formal an enquiry.

 

"Doctor Lewis mentioned you came to her about Mr. Barnes' behaviour a couple of weeks ago. Is that correct?"

 

"Yeah, he tried to tell me that there was some kind of conspiracy going on involving Mr. Ward. He seemed really agitated, so I thought he might need help. I told him to go see Doctor Lewis or Doctor Cho as well. Made sure his closest friends knew something was up, that kind of thing."

 

"Was he the one to attack Mr. Ward?"

 

"You mean did he throw the first punch? Yeah he did, but he seemed completely out of it when he grabbed me so I’m not sure if he was even aware of what he was doing."

 

"And he attacked you as well?"

 

"He grabbed me."

 

"So you would listen to him?"

 

"Yeah to have a conversation about what he thought was going on, like I said, I don't think he was aware of what he was doing."

 

"I’ll make a note for his treatment to determine if that could have happened." Lewis assures Tony. Pierce doesn’t seem pleased with that. Interesting, Tony watches him for a few moments.

 

"Is that everything?" Tony sits up straight, his stomach growls loud enough for them to hear.

 

"Yeah that's everything, Stark." Fury says and makes another note. "Thank you for your cooperation, please make sure you see one of the medical staff to look at your arm."

 

Tony looks down and there’s a deep purple and blue bruise in the shape of a hand grabbing him on his lower biceps and while obscured by the shirt, he’s sure his shoulder hasn’t fared better. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s sure he’ll feel it tomorrow. So, he nods obediently and walks to the door. He needs food. He needs to sleep.

 

"Just one more thing," Pierce says before Tony can walk out the door.

 

"Yeah?" Tony turns back. There is an odd look in the man's eye.

 

"Do you believe there’s any truth to his accusations regarding Grant Ward?"

 

"Absolutely not." Tony says and he believes it.

 

"That is all, thank you."

 

Finally dismissed, Tony goes to walk back to the cafeteria when he hears his name from behind the door he’d just come from. He stops.

 

"-is a liability, Nick."

 

"He is in the Top Four of his group. He does good work."

 

"You are not thinking about the big picture here. It would be political suicide to let him back into space."

 

"I personally can vouch that his mental hea-"

 

"That’s not the point." Pierce continues. "The Board, the Administrator, and probably even the President have concerns. He might perform well, but there’s too much baggage attached to his case. The liability is too great."

 

"What are you saying, Alex?"

 

"I am saying the Administrator wants him out of the program."

 

"To just kick him out?"

 

"No that would cause too much of a public backlash. People would ask too many questions. He needs to not make the next cut. I don't care how you do it."

 

"A random knowledge test, something he would have neglected to study. He fails that, it should pull his average down enough to not make the cut and in the end, we can always adjust his file." Pepper speaks up and Tony feels like he’s been stabbed in the back.

 

"Wouldn't be the first time you have done tha-"

 

Tony’s heard enough. In a daze, he walks along the corridor and down to the mess hall where no evidence is left of the fight. None but the stunned looks of his fellow recruits' faces. Tony walks into the cafeteria, selects a sandwich and a bag of chips and heads back upstairs to his room. He stands there for a moment, but he can hear footsteps and quiet talking. Wilson is in there with Rogers and after what happened, Tony doesn’t feel like he wants to talk, especially not about this. Not right now. He walks up the stairs to Grant's room. He stands in front of his door and knocks.

 

"Hey, you o- come in." Grant says the moment he sees Tony's face. "You okay? What’s going on?"

 

He takes the bag of food from Tony and ushers him to sit on the spare bed.

 

"They are going to kick me out?"

 

"What?" Grant says as he places the sandwich on a plate and hands it to Tony.

 

"I overheard them in Pepper’s office. Fury and that guy Pierce. Pepper, too.”

 

"And they said they would kick you out?" Grant pours Tony a glass of water and hands it to him.

 

"They said I can't make the next cut and to use whatever means necessary to prevent me from doing so."

 

"Is it possible that you misheard?"

 

"Absolutely not."

 

"Not everyone is going to be a fan of you, Tony." Grant says and sits beside him on the bed. "Sometimes people say things they don't mean. Or maybe they knew you were eavesdropping and are trying to teach you a lesson- petty, yes, but you get my point."

 

Tony eats his sandwich in silence, taking a drink of water every so often. He had meant to grab the turkey salad and not the- whatever this was. Doesn’t matter, he thinks. Nothing matters. In two weeks, he’d be walking out the front door for a final time. At least it would not be on a stretcher. So, he supposes things could be worse.

 

"Hey, don't shut down on me." Grant says but Tony doesn’t listen, at least not until Grant takes his hand and caresses it with his thumb. "Please, I would hate to lose my dear friend so soon."

 

"That what I am? Just a friend?" Tony raises an eye brow as he finishes his sandwich.

 

"Right now that’s all we can afford to be."

 

"And later?" Are they having The Talk right now? Apparently they are.

 

"Do you really want to complicate things?" Grant offers and it’s not the answer Tony wants. Though, to be fair, Tony isn’t sure what answer he would want in the first place.

 

"I think complications are the last thing I want right now." He says, but takes Grant's hand in his. "But I can't help but wonder."

 

"I get that." Grant kisses his hand. Tony realizes, this is the first time Grant’s kissed him. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Look at what happens to couples in this place, first your marriage, then Barnes and Rogers. I wouldn’t want that to happen to us." That last word, that 'us' is all Tony needs to be reassured there’s a future for them.

 

"You’re right." He smiles. "Besides, it would be really long distance when I go to Mars."

 

Grants just gives him a look and chuckles. "And moments ago you were convinced they’re going to kick you out." He wraps an arm around Tony. "It is okay, you know, to be on edge after what happened tonight. Come on, you can crash here tonight. Tomorrow will seem like a different day."

 

Tomorrow does not feel like a different day at all. If everyone was on edge yesterday, today, it’s a melting pot of emotions. Rogers doesn’t look at Tony. And Wilson, well, he makes his anger known in ways that don’t need to be verbal. Tony isn’t sure if it’s directed at him or just a general anger silently radiating from the guy. It’s probably the latter, because Wilson is just as cold to everyone else who comes near him. Romanov is sitting away from everyone, her cheek blue and purple where she hit the wall with her face. Tony needs to talk to her, he needs to talk to Rogers, too, but Romanov will be the buffer he needs to get an idea of how to approach all this.

 

Just as he decides to move over to her, Grant enters the room and call him over to sit with him. Lang’s also there, so Tony joins, because the distance he’d felt from Lang had melted away. He does mention talking to Rogers, but Lang excuses himself from that conversation and Grant assures him that giving it time to blow over would make more of a difference than talking to him so soon after. Still, Tony looks across to where Rogers sits, feels the heaviness of the day pull at him. He's so fucking tired.

 

"Know what else you can blow over?" Grant grins.

 

"Here? Now?" Tony raises an eyebrow. He could be up for now, but he's not up for here.

 

"Not here, Rogers would probably have a fit of jealously now that no one is-"

 

"Come on," Tony furrows his brows, "give the guy a break. Besides, I think we were figuring out a where."

 

"My room not fun enough for ya?" Grant smirks.

 

"No chance of getting caught." It’s Tony’s turn to smirk.

 

The desks in the library are solid leftovers from a decade where giant wood monstrosities were considered the appropriate aesthetic. Grant has his binders, his homework, and the furthest desk in the corner. Tony is grateful he is not taller, otherwise squeezing under the desk would have been pretty much impossible.

 

A few minutes later, he looks at his phone, surprised he can’t make out the time. He squints but the numbers blur and when he fumbles through his messages, the words blur, letters switch back and forth at random. He squeezes his eyes shut, pushes at Grant’s leg to get him to move. The air is stifling hot underneath this desk. Suddenly, Grant entwines his fingers in Tony's hair, then grabs hard. Tony struggles, but he can’t breathe. The hand pushes down harder, Tony's nose squished against fabric or cotton or water. He doesn’t understand what’s going on. He tries to speak, but his throat is full of cloth. He tries to move but the hand holds him in place like Barnes’ vice grip. The rest of his body feels like lead or maybe like it isn't there.

 

Tony tries to pull up, but Grant pushes him down, painfully so. His other hand comes to hold Tony's head in place. He struggles as he tries to pull himself free, but Grant locks him in place and moves his hands to grip Tony's face, his thumbs closing Tony's nostrils. With fumbling panic, he grips at Grant’s hand as blackness fades in from the edge of his vision. He tries to stay conscious, waits for the rush of air when Grant finally lets him breathe. That rush never comes and realization dawns on Tony, but his brain deprived of oxygen too long can't mobilize his body to fight. He’s going to die, he thinks and sits up with a start.

 

"You okay?" Grant looks at him from across the mess hall table. They’re not in the library. Tony isn’t dying under a desk. Grant’s not killing him. The library still has the standard spartan desks because it wasn't real. "You fell asleep and I didn’t want to wake you."

 

"I must have dozed off." Tony runs a hand over his face, his nose tender. He looks at Grant for a long moment.

 

"Have some water, it'll help you wake up a bit." Grant pushes his water bottle towards Tony. "At least until the fresh pot of coffee I put on is ready."

 

"Did I hear fresh pot of coffee?" Foster leans back from her chair to look at them. "You are a saint, Ward."

 

"We could all use the pick me up." Grant just says and smiles at Tony who slowly drinks from the bottle, still watching the man.

 

There is something in the back of his mind, something he remembers from his dream. Had it been a dream? Grant still smiles when he gets up and Tony still reaches for the thought. It doesn’t matter, he concludes. It was just a bad dream induced by all the anxiety around him. In a few days, things would settle. In a few days, they'd all be okay.

 


	7. Intermission I: Isolation Pod Observations - Natasha Romanov

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not part of the main story, but in the aftermath of what happened in Orlando and almost happened in LA, I don't think the next chapter would be an appropriate post considering its content. So, instead, here is a short account of Natasha's time in the isolation pod. This part of the exercise happens randomized throughout the training period.

Natasha is not worried about this exercise. In fact, she thinks it is no more than child's play. A week in a nice and quiet place. She's taken camping trips on her own to more remote places with even less access to any sort of amenities or safety nets such as the medical team on standby. No, where she has gone, the nearest hospital is over half a day by helicopter. She's survived on her own plenty of times before this. She's been in isolation pods. She will be fine. She will be absolutely fine.

 

 

On the first day, the high pitched whistle had started. At first, it wasn't too hard to ignore. She kept herself busy with the varying tasks that appeared on her computer with an unassuming 'ding ding' noise. It was a welcome distraction until a timer appeared. When she lost one assignment letting it run out, the noise worsened. It doesn't matter if the two are related. She keeps up with the tasks as they come just in case. Simple enough, but quickly, they come during the most inconvenient times: when she's sitting on the toilet 'ding ding', when she's in the middle of her exercises 'ding ding', when she's just dozed off at the end of the night 'ding ding;, when she's put the first bite of her breakfast in her moth 'ding ding', when she realizes the coffee rations had run out 'ding ding'.

 

The tasks get harder and harder with less and less time to work the problem. And the high pitched whistle turns into a high pitched whine on day four when she's had three hours of sleep and barely minutes between assignment arrivals. She's stopped working out, because she can't do more than three chin-ups before the next assignment demands her attention. Food gets rehydrated if she has a chance to do so but mostly, she's eating freeze dried food in sandy, crumbling chunks that turn into a thick paste sticking to the roof of her mouth. If it's not freeze-dried, it's cold, wet chunks from little vacuum bags she's skewered open with her utility knife. It takes two bites before she grabs a cup and fills it with water. She swallows the green beans and beef stroganoff, cold and- 'ding ding'.

 

She's not fine. She's not okay. This is a terrible idea. It is the worst idea she's ever had.

 

To her credit, she doesn't scream, but the noise that comes out of her mouth isn't particularly human or quiet either. It's an angry growl followed by her taking her cup and aggressively filling it with water again. She forces down the rest of the food with as much spite as she can muster. The entire time, she stares at the camera, ignoring the timers and the dings for the seven minutes and thirty four seconds it takes to force all of the food down. Make those bastards squirm for just a little while with what looks like a silent promise of revenge.

 

The tasks are still there when she returns to the computer. She didn't expect them to disappear. It's a surprise that the oh so familiar 'ding ding' has been absent for nearly half an hour. When an hour passes, she gets suspicious. It doesn't many any sense. There only are four tasks left. Did she beat the system? She shakes her head and focuses on what she has left to do. She knows she hasn't beaten the system. The door isn't open. Whatever happens, she has work to do and she intends to finish it.

 

An hour without 'ding ding' turns into two, turn into three, turn into the rest of the afternoon, through dinner- hot lemon chicken with hot broccoli and hot rice- and after that warm meal, Natasha feels safe enough to change clothes and wash as best as one can with only a sink. The high pitched whine continues but she can ignore it much better with a belly full of warm food and soon smelling much better in clothes she hasn't worn these past three days. It's almost like she's a new person when she crawls into the bunk with toilet paper shoved into her ears. She falls asleep faster than she's anticipated.

 

When she wakes- also faster than anticipated- she is drenched in sweat. And quite confused as to why that is. According to the clock, it is three in the morning but neither the high pitched whine nor the 'ding ding' announcement of new tasks had woken her from her sleep. Then it hits her. It probably hit her before but her brain only now decides to register the heat. The air stifles her breath with humidity that make Houston seem like the desert. The latter is likely due to her own body heat and sweat. She gets up off the bunk stifling a growl. Her sheets are drenched. Her clothes are drenched. So much for being a brand new person. All feelings of energy, being renewed, and just plain comfort have disappeared.

 

The first thing she does is pour herself a glass of water which thankfully is cold. She chugs it back and immediately pours herself another. If she has sweat this much, she runs in danger of being dehydrated and heat stroke. Once she is satisfied she won't keel over any minute, she checks on the thermostat. She can't determine anything wrong. It seems to be in working order only that the working order is set way too hot for human comfort.  Hot is an understatement, that much becomes clear in the first ten minutes after first realizing the extent of the heat. She checks on the thermostat again which has since pushed past 34 degrees Celsius. She pulls off her shirt. Sports-bra will have to so. Not like whoever is watching hasn't seen a woman in a sports-bra before. And she isn't going to let herself be caught with heat exhaustion or worse, heat stroke because she's wearing one too many layers of clothes. She soaks her shirt in water and wraps it around her neck.

 

It's nice and cool for the time being, but she still doesn't understand what's going on with the thermostat. It stops around 37 degrees Celsius which for someone who grew up and trained in the Arctic region around Murmansk, even 25 above zero is close to unbearably hot. No amount of time spent in Houston will ever change that, She sighs and drinks another glass of water, rips a page from the notebook on the desk and folds it into a crudely shaped fan. It does the trick for now. She is still too hot and the thermostat mocks her predicament. She's proud of herself for not throwing anything at the damn thing.

 

An hour passes and the temperature neither climbs nor drops. She knows she won't be able to fall back asleep, so she makes food, or rather picks out the dry snacks that do not need to be rehydrated. She isn't in the mood for warm food or sticky paste. With a small grumble, she puts a handful of raisins in her mouth when- 'ding ding'.

 

"Oh for fuck's sake!" She slams the container of raisins on the table and turns to her computer. For more tasks. She takes a deep breath. Fine, all right, she has got this. She is going to be okay. She will make it through and it will be another story she can tell. And besides, if they are putting her through this, she doesn't want to know what they're going to put Loki through. Good luck to him, because after two days of completing tasks in the sweltering heat, the door opens with a his followed by a rush of cool air.

 

"Thanks guys," she says and takes a cold water bottle from one of the medical staff as she walks own the stairs from the pod. "Some people pay for hot yoga. Never felt more relaxed."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 34C = 93.2F  
> 37C = 98.6F  
> 25C = 77F
> 
> Average July (summer) temperature in Murmansk: 13C or 55F


	8. And it was cold and it rained (so I felt like an actor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Tony grows suspicious

 

However, it isn’t a few days from now that Tony goes back to his room. Three hours later when he feels that he can't keep his eyes open much longer and he feels like he’s forgetting more than he has retained. This week promises to be very long and very hard. And all Tony wants is to collapse in his bed and sleep. He fumbles for his key card and drags himself into the room. Rogers stands beside his bed as Tony enters, clearly looking like someone who is waiting. So this is how that conversation is going to go. Tony braces himself. He knows how he’d react if something happened to- if something happened to a person he loved.

 

"What gave you the right-?" The words cut. There’s no build-up, no accumulation of pain and guilt that eventually begins to ache. No, Tony feels the words cut immediately, feels the responsibility of his inaction. He wants to say something, wants to make sure Rogers knows he understands the pain.

 

“Look, Rogers, I know you’re upset,” the words are the exact opposite of what he wants to say, and yet he can’t stop them, “but things are only-“

 

"You’re kidding, right?" Rogers looks pissed, more pissed than Tony had ever seen him look. Furious, filled with rage, filled with all the emotions Tony understands. "Bucky’s been strapped to a bed, sedated for a day because every time he wakes up he says he has to save you from yourself. And that’s overlooking that someone told Ward that Bucky and I are romantic partners. I can count on my hand the people who know and you’re the only one who’d say something."

 

"I didn’t know it was a secret." Tony can’t get himself off the defense. It would be so easy just to concede, to admit how guilty he feels, but his brain won’t let him.

 

"Okay, let’s start there then." Rogers crosses his arms. The knuckles of his hands are white. He’s barely restraining his rage and if Tony had learned anything last night, it’s that Rogers is strong as all hell. "No one told you. You didn’t ask. Bucky didn’t tell me you knew until a couple of weeks ago. And you are the only one who spends enough time with Ward that it might come up and maybe I should wonder if you two have your own little thing going on."

 

"Do you have a point or do you just need me as a ranting wall?" Tony wants to add that he’d be happy to be just that, but again, he doesn’t.

 

"Tell your boyfriend-"

 

"He’s not my boyfriend." That’s the truth. Grant isn’t his boyfriend and after yesterday, after seeing his face when he fought Barnes, Tony is relieved that he isn’t.

 

"Tell Ward, I don't trust him and if there’s any sort of truth to Bucky's claims, I will find out and I will see to it that there are consequences for his actions."

 

"Look," Tony sighs. And finally, his brain allows him to concede to admit he made a mistake. He needs to de-escalate the situation not just because they’re part of his team. They had his back and right now, he needs to have theirs. And that’s what in the end overrides whatever it keeps him from telling Rogers how guilty he feels. "I should have done more. When he came to me the first time, I should have done more than just text you. Probably should have marched him straight to Lewis’ office, but I don't think that Gra- Ward has any kind of secret plans for me. If he overheard something, I think he misunderstood due by stress."

 

"And you are a hundred per cent sure of that?" Rogers lowers his arms and sits down on his bed.

 

A hundred per cent is a lot of per cent. It’s all of them. It means that he is completely and utterly sure that Grant Ward has no ulterior motifs, that he trusts him completely and with his life. If he says yes, he is completely certain. If he said yes, Barnes had merely- well not merely- had a nervous breakdown, a psychotic episode likely induced by stress. But less than a month ago, he had been completely fine. He had displayed no signs of stress. Even if Tony spent less time with him, Rogers, and Wilson, he and Rogers still shared a room. He knows Rogers would have said something if things weren’t going well. One hundred per cent means that he trusts Grant's word over Rogers. One hundred per cent means that he has not a single doubt in his mind that Grant is completely innocent in regard to what happened to Barnes.

 

"I don't know." His answer surprises him and by the look on Rogers' face, he’s not the only one surprised. It’s the truth. He knows Grant well, but does he know that Grant may not have said something to Barnes that may have caused anxiety or undo stress? He’s not sure, but he still remembers Grant’s face last night. And because of that, he can't give Rogers any absolute answers.

 

"That makes two of us." Rogers simply says.

 

"Makes me wonder if I should have listened to what he had to say instead of dismissing him. I-"

 

"Don’t go there, it’ll destroy you. Believe me, for the past twenty four hours, I’ve thought of nothing but whether or not there was anything I could have done to stop him or see any signs of things going wrong, but there’s nothing either- any- of us could have done. He was fine and now he's-"

 

"Not at St. John's," Tony looks up from his phone.

 

"How do you- wait, don't tell me."

 

"Wasn’t going to, but that means he is in medical here on site." Tony looks at Rogers. "How did you not know that? Aren't you-?"

 

"Yeah, but not according to our files. Family only. And I didn't think to-" Ro- Steve looks like he’s beating himself up internally.

 

"Hey, it's fine." Tony squeezes his shoulder. After all that happened, Tony doesn’t blame him and he doubts anyone else would either.

 

"I didn't even think to ask. What kind of horrible partner am I?"

 

"Better than me on a good day, but beside the point," Tony grabs Steve’s jacket and tosses it at home. "Come on, let's go."

 

"Where-"

 

"Where do you think? Tell them you're his husband and needed permission to leave the training area first."

 

"We're just going there?" Steve looks incredulous. “And why would they believe me if I told them that?”

 

“They know two guys got married right before coming here. Might as well take the credit. By the time they figure out it’s not you, it’ll be too late.”

 

“I don’t know, Tony.” Steve says and it’s the first time he’s used Tony’s first name in friendship. It means a lot more to Tony than they have time to discuss. They don’t have time to discuss anything.

 

"It's the only way we're going to get any answers." Tony shrugs and pulls a sweater over his head. "And the only one who can give those to us is in medical. And let's face it, they’re not going to actively look for us until dinner and by that time, at least I'm going to be back. And I don't think they'll fault you for staying."

 

They decide that they’ll get answers one way or another. There’s a faint pang of guilt sitting in Tony's stomach for not trusting Grant completely, but there’s nothing he can do to fight that. The only way to get answers is to find out what happened to Barnes. The key to find out if there’s any truth to the feeling in Tony’s gut, that gnawing doubt, is restrained in a bed over in medical. He swallows down the guilt that begins to surface again and takes a deep breath.

 

Under the guise of going for a run, they walk out of their room, along the corridors. It's quiet now. Everyone has been so on edge that for the next couple of days classes have been cancelled and activities reduced to give everyone a chance to calm down and unwind. Most have chosen to stay in their rooms or to sit in the library, which suits them fine. There isn’t an explicit ban on running along the roads if they want a different route. Right now, it surely is discouraged, but the medical building is only about two miles away and unlike St. John's, it also doesn't involve leaving the Space Center.

 

"Hey, you going for a run?" Grant's voice is behind them. Tony’s surprised he has to fight back a flinch.

 

"Yeah, figured we should get rid of some of this nervous energy." He shrugs and looks at Steve.

 

"Great, I was just going out there myself, the more the merrier right?" Grant looks dressed for a run, but it does appear suspicious that he would choose exactly right now to go. And he can't join them, the point is to figure out what really happened to Barnes and if there’s any truth to it, letting Grant into their plans would ruin them.

 

"Right." Steve says and doesn't mean it at all, but he has to go. He of all people has to go. He wouldn't withhold information from Tony if he gathered any. He could still go alone.

 

"Great idea," Tony says and claps his hand on Grant's back. "Rogers why don't you go ahead and warm up and we'll be right down."

 

"Sure." It's almost a question but Tony doesn't have time to explain.

 

"I was working on something and I think your geological expertise would really help me find an answer." Grant raises an eyebrow and that’s when Steve gets it.

 

"Sure yeah, but if you're not down in ten, you owe me a drink and I'm running circles around you, Stark."

 

So, Tony pulls Grant into his room and when the door closes he smiles.

 

"That wasn't very fucking subtle." Grant looks annoyed. That’s new.

 

"Rogers bought it." Tony smiles and stands close to him, runs a hand over the expanse of Grant’s chest.

 

"Until we don't make it down in ten minutes."

 

"So you're saying that you're...up for it then?" Tony runs the hand to Grant's belt. "Because I had a dream about what I'm going to do to you."

 

"And what happened in that dream?"

 

"No spoilers," Tony slides down to his knees. "You'll have to find out like everyone else."

 

 

Three hours later, Tony really hopes that Steve went on without them. He looks over at Grant splayed out on his bed, half dozing. Never before has he felt dirty after sex and yet, here he is, longing for a hot shower and any excuse to leave his room. Tony slips off the bed and heads to the bathroom. When he’s certain Grant isn’t looking, he swipes his phone off the table and closes the door behind him, slides his thumb over the locking mechanism at the same time he swipes to unlock his screen. There is no message.

 

_Taking a shower, let me know what's up._

 

He showers. The water nearly scalds his skin, but he doesn’t turn down the heat. Tony stands under the water, eyes closed, breathing through his mouth as he feels the heat wash over him. As he stands there, he can feel it again, that nagging doubt, that feeling of filth, like he's not really doing this because it's right or because he likes it, but rather because he's buying them time. Sex used to be a thing Tony used as a means to get what he wants. It used to be a meaningless act, something he could toss around because it didn’t matter to him. That had all changed when-. He closes his eyes and dips his head back under the hot stream of water. When the door handle moves and rattles before there is a knock.

 

"Hey you locked the door?" Grant's voice. Why did he announce himself only after he tried the door?

 

"Yeah, sorry," Tony calls out, "force of habit when you're sharing with a bunch of people. I'll be right out!" He steps out of the shower, dripping wet, still naked and as quietly as possible locks the other entrance door to the shower room, just in case. He isn't sure what exactly that case could be, but he knows it makes him feel safer when he steps back under the water. He showers thoroughly as if he needs to wash his emotions off him. And when he wraps himself in a towel, his phone chimes.

 

_He's not in good shape. Gonna stay here for a while._

 

_Any news on what we talked about?_

 

_No. He hasn't been conscious. Talk later._

 

Tony deletes the messages and changes the passcode on his phone. Again, just in case, again he isn't sure what that case would be, but again he feels better, safer doing it. He wraps himself in a towel, because dressing in the bathroom would have been weird, raised suspicion. And Grant’s suspicion isn’t something they can afford right now.

 

"Hey sorry it took so long, but I promise I didn't use up all the hot water." He smiles and places a kiss on the corner of Grant's mouth.

 

"Could have saved some water." Grant looks at Tony and winks.

 

"Fuck, didn't think of that." Only he did and that had been the last thing he’d wanted.

 

"Too late now," Grant gets up and walks toward the bathroom door, "but if you used up all the hot water,-."

 

Grant breaks the sentence in this odd space between humorous ribbing and potential threat, but then he smiles and that’s when Tony forces himself to smile as well and laugh it off. When Grant closes the bathroom door, Tony changes into comfortable clothes and lays on the bed. He looks at his phone several times, tempted to message or even call Steve, but if Barnes is doing pretty rough, the man has bigger things to worry about than giving him a play-by-play. Tony knows he would- he would have felt the same way if it had been Loki. Loki, a name he hasn’t thought of in a long time. Loki, for whom Tony would have done anything. He closes his eyes for a moment, and for the first time in months, he misses Loki.

 

Fuck.

 

"I'm gonna take a nap!" He shouts at the door and throws his arm over his eyes. He needs to think of something else. He doesn't have the luxury to mope right now or to be tempted to look at Loki’s contact info and do something stupid. So, he lays his phone on the bed beside him and turns his back to it.

 

Eventually, maybe sooner than that, he falls asleep. His sleep is filled with anxious pieces of dreams, but none like the one he had in the mess hall. When he wakes an hour and a half later, Grant’s gone. Tony reaches for his phone, but it isn't where he left it. It's on his desk, but he distinctly remembers placing it beside him on the bed. It's on his desk, face up. He only ever leaves his phone facing down on whatever surface he places it. His stomach settles cold, the hairs on his neck stand. Where he could not bring himself to be 100% sure, he now knows he isn't sure at all about Grant.

 

The lock screen of his phone comes up when he swipes his finger over the screen. He feels some relief, but only a small amount. He keys in the code and the screen pops up as it normally does. Two text messages waiting, one from Steve an hour ago and one from Grant.

 

_Get here. As soon as you can._ Tony jumps off the bed and hastily changes back to running slacks, because he can't just take a cab to medical.

 

_omw_ is all he sends back before he shoves his phone into the waistband of his boxer briefs and puts on his shoes. He doesn't bother to check Grant's text, he has to go. There’s no time to waste. And frankly, he doesn’t want to know what Grant has to say.

 

He makes it all the way out the side door and settles into a slow jog to keep the appearance of going for a long endurance kind of run. They have all gotten more exercise these past few days. It won't look too suspicious, especially alone. The skies are grey and drizzle mists the air. It’s a day that reminds him of fall along the Pacific coast in Washington where he and Loki- he shakes his head and tries to just focus on his breath and the road ahead. For a while, all he can hear is the shuffle of his feet on the pavement, and the sound of drizzle slowly changing into rain. There are no cars that pass him on the road and all sounds are distant, blending into a white noise he uses to keep himself focused.

 

At first, he thinks the shuffle of feet behind him is just part of the background noise, but it's too distinct and coming closer. There is a sense of looming in the air. What if Grant knows where he's going? What if he did crack Tony’s phone? He closes his eyes and swallows but never stops running. Every part of his body wants to tense and speed up, but he can't. If there is but a tiny chance that Grant doesn't know, that Grant isn't involved in this? He has to hang on to that. And maybe, it's not Grant at all. Maybe it's someone else running along the road because it's a free country and the park trails are only so long. But he can't just keep running, because whoever is behind him will soon enough know that he's headed somewhere specific. They're a mile into the run and the split in the road comes up in 500 yards or so. The road they're on continues until it circles back around. If he takes the branch, that's suspicious. That isn't a normal route for someone to run and that might alert- he tries not to think Grant- that Tony and Steve suspect something.

 

Tripping on command is a lot harder than Tony anticipated. The road is quite clean, a few small rocks but nothing that would sell a fall. He settles for moving his foot slightly wrong, catching it on his leg and stumbling a few paces before coming to a stop. Hands on his hips he walks in a small circle, pretending like he doesn't know there is someone behind him.

 

"Hey you okay?" It's not Grant. Tony exhales with relief when Wilson comes to a stop beside him. "Almost wiped yourself out there."

 

"Yeah, forgot my water bottle, too." Tony chuckles and runs a hand over his face. "Not a good start, I was going for the whole 10 miles around."

 

Whether the weather understood Tony's situation or whether it’s complete coincidence- the latter obviously, but the timing of the cracking thunder and the sudden downpour is enough for him to send a little prayer of thanks to Mother Nature inside his head. It's not that a little bit of rain- or a lot of rain- should stop either of them from continuing to run, but Tony turns around.

 

"Heading back already?" Wilson shouts over the rain. "C'mon, Stark, you got this! We're all out for the long run, Ward's picking up the rear. Push through this. It's for Bucky."

 

Fuck.

 

Wilson isn't the only one behind him. Oh no, Foster is out, so is Barton, Lang, every single recruit files along the long road to run the ten. There is no way he can sneak off now. He fumbles for his phone, shielding it with his shirt as he clumsily types a message to Steve.

 

_Something's up. Everyone's out running. For Barnes. idk weird shit. Will try again later_ Tony deletes the message as soon as his phone tells him it was received and turns off his phone. The case is supposed to be waterproof but just on the off chance it's not, he'd rather not get electrocuted while running.

 

"Hey Stark, no lazing around!" He hears Grant's voice and he closes his eyes. "Let’s do this for our friend."

 

Tony bites the inside of his lip. It's too preposterous that Grant could have mobilized everyone in such a short time to go for a 'memorial' run for someone who isn't even dead. It's also too convenient that it seems like Grant knows Barnes isn't coming back any time soon, if at all. Like he has something planned. But what can Tony do from here without raising suspicions? So, he runs. After another mile, Grant pulls out a bottle of what looks like melted blue popsicles and takes a drink. Now, he really wishes he had brought his water bottle and catches himself staring with longing at the bottle and Grant who swallows its contents greedily.

 

"Forgot your bottle again, didn't you?" He says and Tony can merely nod. Anything else would give away that he’d only planned on running the two miles of road to medical. "It's a good thing you're going to be an astronaut." He hands Tony a second bottle he has strapped to his back and for a moment, Tony thinks maybe he shouldn’t drink it. But he’s so thirsty and knows there are another nine miles before the end. So, he drinks, greedily. It's sweet, overly sweet and not what he would usually opt for but when a few minutes later he feels incredibly energized, he goes with it. His heartbeat increases, but not scarily so, just enough to make him feel like he's fucking alive, like he could have been Barnes, any of them could have been Barnes, but they're not. They're alive and strong. Strong enough to become astronauts.

 

Tony overtakes Wilson in the lead at mile seven and keeps ahead of everyone. He doesn't even feel like he is running as fast as he possibly could. All he can hear is the sound of his feet pounding on the concrete surface and he wants to go faster. Faster. Every breath feels like fire in his lungs, but it's the best fire he's ever felt. He can feel his blood pumping through his veins, it's fucking euphoric. He rides the high until they're back at home- or at least what would be their home for another week before they received their detailed ranks, exit interviews, and either the cut or the assignment for their wilderness survival groups. Or the cut.

 

He slows until he stops. The euphoria washes away quickly. The cut looms and there is only one week left. This run may have been the best of his life, but it doesn't count. None of this counts. He heard them. He didn't misconstrue anything. They were going to fail him and just like that, he would just be someone who wasn't good enough to make it. There would be no scandal and if he tried to speak out, he would be ridiculed and someone no doubt would infer that he was back on the bottle and that would kill any chance at another mission.

 

"Shit, Stark," Wilson comes to a stop beside him, "I think today you would've beaten Rogers and the Maximoff kid." He claps Tony on the shoulders. "Good for you. I'll see you at dinner."

 

But while the euphoria has washed away, Tony still feels a nervous energy. Normally, he would fix that in the shower jacking off, but it's not a sexual nervous energy. Maybe it's just the runner's high he's heard about so often but never could quite understand it. He turns around to look for Grant, but he is nowhere to be seen. Even after the last person returned, there is no sign of Grant. Unease settles deeper into Tony, he can feel it in his bones. But he is standing in the rain, still soaked, and when he starts to shake, he decides it is time for a hot shower. The second one in less than 24 hours. No water restrictions for astronaut candidates.

 

"Mr. Stark." Tony makes it almost to the stairwell before he can hear Nick Fury's voice. "I have some bad news."

 

Fuck, the last thing Tony needs right now is bad news. He runs a hand over his face and turns to look at Fury. "Can it wait?"

 

"I'm afraid not." Fury does look rather grave. He also doesn't wait to usher Tony into another room before he speaks again. "This is need to know only. By that I mean, no one other than you needs to know the information I am giving you. Understood?"

 

"Yes?" Tony nods but he still isn't sure what's going on here.

 

"Candidate Barnes died an hour ago following complications regarding an overdose on ADHD medication and a previously undetected heart defect. Candidate Rogers will be resigning from his candidacy first thing in the morning. I know this is bad news, but I also know if I didn't tell you, you would find out on your own. We will release a small official statement tomorrow to let the other candidates and the world know.”

 

"You caught that server access, then." Tony's voice is hollow. He can't comprehend what he feels right now. All he knows is that what he feels is nothing compared to what Steve must feel. "Can I see him? Rogers I mean? Can I talk to him?"

 

"Unfortunately, that’s impossible which I am sure you understand. The man needs to grieve in private with his family."

 

Tony doesn't blurt out that they're his family too after all these months. He wants to, but what good would it do. What good would any of it do? His head which has started to thrum when he'd walked inside is now exploding into what could be a migraine or a brain aneurysm. He isn't sure.

 

"I'd ask if that's all, but I think if it's not, the rest is going to have to wait because that’s enough news for one night, but while I have you here: why are you letting me be kicked out?"

 

"Stark, someone died today. The last of your concerns should be whether or not you're making it to the next round. Get some rest and remember, no one else needs to know about this until we make the announcement."

 

On the walk to his room, Tony feels like he's in a trance, like he sees the world through foggy windows, like his ears are full of cotton balls. The pain in his head pulses, spreading to his neck and shoulders. Back in his room, he avoids looking at Steve's side and fumbles for some analgesics in the bathroom. He swallows them dry and then chugs a couple of glasses of water before collapsing on his bed. The sudden sharp pain in his hip reminds him that his phone still sits tucked into his waistband. With shaking fingers, he pulls it out and turns it on. There had been only one further messages from Steve.

 

_It's over. There's nothing left to be done._ He ignores the others.

 

_Fury told me. Nothing I say could make this better, but if you need a friend, I'm here._

 

_Thank you_ is all that Steve replies and Tony understands.

 

Here in this empty room with this horrible news hanging over him, threatening to crush him, Tony lies in bed. And for the first time in a very long time, he cries himself to sleep.

 

 

 

 


	9. Feeling Very Still

The days until the final rankings are revealed have Tony on edge. He's nervous, fidgeting, studying is hard because he can neither sit still nor does exercise help get rid of it. Despite numerous invitations to study with the others, he holes up in his empty room. He can't face them, not if he’s unable to tell them that he knew about Barnes. How did Fury think he would be able to- maybe this is the test. Maybe this is how they flush him out. He runs his hands through his hair and lets out a groan of frustration, anger, and when all is said and done, grief. He’s tired, exhausted, and completely drained. Any contact with his classmates, the nervous energy, and really any sort of social energy are too much for him.

 

So, he doesn’t leave his room. He doesn't shower. He doesn't change his clothes. He sneaks downstairs after the food delivery comes in and grabs a supply for the day. There are no questions asked when the staff sees him grab an armful of granola bars, fruit, a bag of baby carrots, and several bottles of protein shakes. This time during training everyone’s peculiarities are in overdrive. No one else sees him and he's sure once they make it to the day before final rankings and cuts, everyone else will assume he's also dropped out. Might as well get used to it, it's not like he's going to stick around. He will take what fate hands to him. He will go home, sell the apartment, and see if JPL needs another engineer. Which is close to guaranteed, Tony is after all kind of a genius.

 

It's what he's been working on for the past two days. Not studying but his resume and a cover letter. It feels like he's graduating from college all over again, but he does what he must. His only other option is to live off his inheritance and drink himself to death. He won't give Loki or Fury or Pierce or anyone that has some kind of stake in Tony’s well-being and ranking, he won't give them that.  It doesn’t make sense to study for the tests this week if he’s going to be sent walking no matter what. What does make sense is to get a head start on everyone else who will not make it past that point. He sighs and looks back at the screen, the cursor flashing on a blank page. This cover letter would be it, his adieu to space flight. This cover letter- once sent- would seal his fate as an engineer. It’s not like he wouldn’t have ended up at JPL anyhow. Eventually, he’d be deemed too old for flight and flight operations would hold his interest only for so long.

 

“Fuck.” He whispers to himself.

 

“Fuck.” He repeats as he looks at the open document.

 

“Fuck.” He says when he deletes it and the updated version of his resume. Giving up is what they want him to do, to make it easier to kick him out of the program. But he isn’t ready to give up just yet. Once he leaves, that’s it. No more second chances. He isn’t ready for that, not after all the bullshit he’s had to go through, not after all he’s endured. He flips open one of his books and grabs a pen for some old-fashioned handwritten notes from which to study. He writes the first word when there’s a knock on his door.

 

“I’m busy.” Tony says loud enough for whomever is at the door. If he’d guess, it’s probably Grant showing up conveniently. The door opens regardless, of course it does. “Damn it Grant, I said I was- you’re not Ward.”

 

“Well observed,” Pepper Potts looks up from her tablet. “Why are you here?”

 

“I want to go to Mars? Isn’t that why everyone else is here? Or do you want me to give you some existentialist spiel about second chances and how Orion showed me that I can accomplish more and that I am not my disease which I should have proven literally to the moon and ba-.”

 

“No, I mean,” there’s a look in her eyes that Tony reads as both confused and suspicious, “why are you here in your room? Are you trying to deliberately sabotage yourself?”  
  


“Should have let me continue my spiel and you’d know that I’m not done. I’m not. I’ll do anything it takes.”

 

“So you don’t know.” She makes a note on the inside of her hand, tiny, short-hand he can’t make out.

 

“Know what?” Tony feels chilled. “With all the shit going on here, you gotta be more specific.”

 

“That you were supposed to report for your iso-pod assessment twenty....six hours ago. You’re the last one in Blue.”

 

“This is how you kick me out then.” He says and he’s surprised he doesn’t feel outraged or upset or in any way emotionally unstable. Instead, he feels calm and collected when he continues to speak. “Fine, so be it, but I’m not going to go quietly. Everyone’s going to know that there has been some kind of conspiracy to push me out and don’t look so surprised, I heard you. I heard _you_ of all people join with that Pierce guy and agree to get rid of me.”

 

“I didn’t _join_ him.” It’s the first time Tony’s heard Pepper sound hurt since- since he was the one who hurt her by showing up drunk at her place of employment to accuse her of- it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s a different person now and they’ve made peace.

 

“I heard differently.”

 

“What do you think he would have done if I’d spoken up against him? You heard the conversation. You met him. He would have transferred me to Ohio!” She takes a deep breath and looks at Tony. “They wrote an algorithm into the scoring system to automatically weight your worst scores heavier than your best scores, overriding the actual weight of the assignments. And then you did so well- I don’t think you understand how proud of you I am- they started subtracting from your scores before they were entered.”

 

“So I’m fucked no matter what.”

 

The last thing Tony expects is for Pepper to put her tablet down, cross the room, and take his hand. The touch is like a jolt of electricity, strange, but oddly familiar. He used to love her. Fuck, he used to love her so much, he would and kind of did anything to prove that. He remembered a time when it was her who caused his stomach to flutter, his throat to tighten, and-

 

“Not fucked unless you want to be.” She squeezes his hand, with reassurance and friendship. There’s no soft, suggestive trail of her thumb across his palm. It’s a metaphorical fucking she refers to when she speaks. “Fury doesn’t want you out. No one here wants you out, but only Fury, I, and Pierce know about this. And whomever Pierce deemed trustworthy enough to help his cause. Johnson doesn’t know this, but one of her assignments was to create a backdoor program which would allow us to restore your original test sco-.”

 

“Wait what?” Tony’s mind just realizes it has to play catch-up with Pepper’s revelations.

 

“Too much exposition to go through right now, you need to shower and meet me outside. I’m taking you to Hall C. You’re not washing out on my watch. And I mean the shower thing, you smell like a teenager.” Without another word, she disappears and leaves Tony stunned, staring at the wall for a few moments.

 

Until the rational part of Tony’s brain shakes him up, because he’d just resolved to fight and here Pepper just proved that people have his back, that she has his back. He isn’t doomed to be pushed out by the whims of some guy he’s met once, but in his own hands with a little help from a friend or two. The shower is quick and utilitarian. He puts on fresh clothes and takes his phone, personal tablet, and a few other things and shoves them into his shoulder bag. The bag will be locked away while he is in the iso-pod, but that’s better than leaving it here where others might gain access. It isn’t paranoia if it’s real, he thinks to himself and leaves his room.

 

He makes it all the way to the stairs before he’s pulled into a dark corner of the stairwell, hands hotly on him, mouth kissing him with what feels like desperation. Maybe the shower was a little too utilitarian because Tony can feel his dick stir inside his pants when Grant grinds his thigh against him, when Grant drags his tongue along Tony’s neck and sucks his pulse. He bites back a groan when the man drops to the floor in front of him, because fuck they’re in the middle of a fucking stairwell and Grant’s not one to sink to his knees very often. But Tony has places to be. Tony has to meet Pepper and really, Grant’s timing, it’s just too convenient. And despite the warm mouth against his navel, Tony can’t shake that feeling, that feeling of uncertainty, that feeling that Grant might be keeping things from him, that Grant doesn’t have his best interest in mind. All that and he really needs to go meet Pepper.

 

“Stop, stop, stop,” Tony pulls away, and closes the button to his pants. “I’d love to stay.” He doesn’t. “But I gotta go.” That’s the truth.

 

“Come on,” Grant tries to pull him back in. “We’ll go back to my room, help you relax, a-“

 

“No,” Tony walks down a couple of steps and for a moment, there’s something on Grant’s face that reminds him of that night with Barnes. “I have to go. I want to make it to the next round. This has been too much of a distraction already. I’ll see you around.” He turns around and doesn’t look back as he runs down the stairs. For a moment, his body tenses as though it expects to be pushed down the stairs. But that never happens and he continues to jog down toward the doors where Pepper waits patiently in her personal car.

 

The ride is quiet. When they arrive, Tony is processed, faster than he’d imagined he would. No one seems to be asking questions, so neither does he. What matters is that they get him into the iso-pod as soon as possible. So he trades his shoulder bag for a standard issue travel bag. He receives two sets of standard issue clothing: two pairs pants- one cargo and one sweat, a short sleeve shirt, a long sleeve shirt, a zip up hoodie, two pairs of socks, and two pairs of underwear. He chooses to wear the short sleeve shirt first. The long sleeve and the sweat pants would serve as his pajamas. If he got cold, he could always wear the hoodie.

 

 

Tony's spent four days on his own zipping around the moon, but even then, he had almost continuous contact with Houston and when he was not talking to Houston, he'd either be sleeping or keeping logs. This is different. Stepping into the pod, he has to fight himself. Once he is in the fake airlock, there are only two ways he can go: into the pod or back out and straight back to his apartment, because if he doesn't go through with this, if he doesn't pass this, he is done. And he is not fucking done. He steps in and hears "Good luck, Stark" fr om Natasha on the intercom. It’s the last real voice he'll hear for a long time. 

 

Then it is silent. It’s the kind of silence that is meant to unnerve even the most emotionally stable people. The isolation pod exercise exists for a reason. No one but you and a habitat pod designed to keep you going for a week or in Tony’s case five days or so. There's enough food, rations of course, a med kit, and whatever else he may need for his mission assignment. In Tony's case, it turns out to be the sorting of orbital trajectories by most ideal to least ideal. It’s purposefully boring and purposefully easy, he knows that much. The point is to have as mundane a day as possible, but alone without normal stimulation, even the sounds of the computer, the running water, and the pod itself feel dampened in Tony’s ears. Back when he had first trained, there had been a several hour stint in an isolation tank full of water. Now that the isolation tank was part of spa therapies all over the world, no longer a challenge. This would be. Being stuck with four or five other people in an enclosed space is still being stuck with other people in an enclosed space. Locked in his room, Tony still had the option to seek out others. Here, he is completely alone. 

 

The first day is simple. Tony has breakfast while he gets his bearings. Not that there is much space for him to understand. The room is about the size of a module on the ISS. There's a bunk on one side under which there is a work station. A small space for one person to walk easily along the length of the module and a work station and storage on the other side. At the far end, there is a small hygiene station behind a folding door where there is a toilet, a sink, and a small mirror. No cameras in there. Not that he'd wa nt to stay there long. There is only enough space for him to stand in front of the sink and that’s about it. 

 

“Home, sweet home.” He says as he puts his clothes neatly into an empty bin and realizes that he'll be talking to himself a lot this week.

 

After breakfast, he looks at the co mputer. There isn’t much on it. The computer itself is about ten years outdated and has one it only the most essential programs he needs. So much for spending his time playing Solitaire. As he looks around, he finds that the data for each day are already on the hard drive. He probably could finish all of the sets in a good two-day data bender, but he knows that then he would have at least three more days of nothing. So instead, he makes a roster. They'll be watching him closely and Tony will be the most fucking efficient at entertaining himself as he can possibly be. 

 

He runs out of work to do on the second day, incidentally around the same time he beats the simplistic version of statistical minesweeper he cobbled together. He curses himself when he wakes up after having fallen asleep at the desk. He had ended up finishing the work in one single night. Work that's supposed to last him at least three days. Now, there are four days between him and that hatch opening again. Or possibly more, he doesn’t know for sure when he’ll be let out. Now, it’s just him with his thoughts right here in a tiny, enclosed space with no one else to count on. Not even Lo-

 

"Fuck." Tony slams his hand on the table before remembering that he’s being observed. He turns to the camera with a smile and waves. Yeah, this is going fantastically. Up until now, he had a plan. He'd managed to divvy his work into a rudimentary schedule: breakfast, exercise, an hour of work, lunch, a post-lunch nap, exercise, work, dinner, log entry, leisure time, bed. Leisure time because he had found a few old manuals in the depths of the hard drive, either left there on purpose or forgotten to delete, and in the absence of any entertainment Shuttle Mission manuals are riveting stuff. 

 

However, n ow, he doesn't have any work to fill his day. At first, he attempts to clear the file and do everything over again, but he is locked out. Apparently completion meant no do-overs. Then he tries to read more manuals, but on the third day, he finds himself locked out of those as well. He doesn't swear this time, but inhales a deep breath to try and tame the frustration and anger that bubble up in his guts and throat. Exercise, that'll help. Getting all the rage out will do him some good. After 200 push-ups, the anger still doesn't subside. He goes to the computer again, maybe he can write a program to entertain himself or even crack the lockout, but when he starts it up again, the computer screen is blank and blue. To his credit, he doesn't scream until he is taken a pillow into the bathroom. Sure, they will still hear the muffled sounds of rage, but they won't be a sign of desperation. He will still look like he knows what he is doing. That night, he goes to bed early because fuck it, he might as well. 

 

When he wakes, he is completely drenched in sweat. Just great. He gets up with a groan and grabs his day clothes which are starting to smell a little like- well, like he is worn them every day for the past six days even with airing them out every night. He slips into the bath corner and turns on the sink. No water. Now that's just great. Fine, he thinks and changes into his day clothes.  He is annoyed now. The anger from last night still close to the surface. But there’s something else there, too. Something that he knows if given enough time in the silence will push all the anger and annoyance away and he isn’t ready for that kind of vulnerability. 

 

He goes to turn on the computer to do something- anything to keep his mind occupied. The computer  doesn't turn on. Neither do any but the ambient lights. Great, he’s stuck in here, in the darkness, smelling like shit, with nothing to do. He doesn’t growl, but well okay maybe he does. And maybe he feels that it’s warranted, because if this isn’t how they’re going to flush him out of this place, he’s going to make it to the next round. 

 

“Give me your fucking worst.” He says in the direction of the camera which still has to be recording. If this was a true emergency, he would have been removed from the pod and the situation assessed.

 

Defiance doesn’t last very long as he sits on his bunk, then on the floor, then on the chair, then on the floor again. He can’t bring himself to exercise, even though he knows it will push his mind off-course. Minutes blur into hours, hours blur into days, maybe weeks, Tony no longer has a concept of time. He sleeps erratically, a couple of hours- or so he thinks- at a time. He eats, but doesn’t feel hungry. Mostly, he sits and stares at the bulkhead, while trying to simultaneously ignore and acknowledge the pain he feels. At some points, he feels wet on his cheek, tears not sweat, but he’s oddly detached. He misses Loki, he even says it out loud once, but there is no catharsis. He misses Loki and instead of fighting for him, he’d just given up and ran into the closest arms that would have him. There’s no excuse for that, just like there’s no excuse for what Loki had done. Nothing would change all that. 

 

“I’m not a good man.” He says, realizing he hadn’t talked to himself nearly as much as he’d thought he would. “I’m not a good man, but I’m a fucking brilliant astronaut.” He repeats himself to the camera directly before sitting down at his work station to eat food. He’s two forks of curry into whatever kind of meal time it is when the door opens and light floods into the pod. He squints and raises his hand to his eyes to make out the silhouette of Pepper Potts.

 

“Well done, Stark,” she says and makes a mark on her clipboard. “Your team leader will take it from here.”

She steps aside to reveal Natasha standing behind her. Tony’s not sure he’s ever seen Nat smile at him quite so broadly. If they’re still pushing him out, he doesn’t care. All he wants is a shower and a good night’s sleep. Natasha ushers him to change rooms and waits patiently, talking quietly and only when Tony asks something.

 

“You’re lucky,” she says after he’s changed into fresh clothes. “Everyone else has been a nervous wreck for the past few days. You get to join and know right away whether or not you made it.”

 

“That’s today?” He runs a hand over his face. Time passage had been a peculiar thing in the iso-pod, but now none of that matters. His heart beats in his chest. He feels clammy and kind of sick.

 

“Don’t worry,” Natasha pats him on the back, “Lang was the first to throw up from nerves, so if you do, you’re at least not the only or the first one.”

 

When they return to the dorms, Tony isn't sure what he expected to happen, but it isn't cheers and clapping and a general reception like he's a fucking rockstar coming to join the mortals. And maybe this is the best choice, to be cut while he's among colleagues, team mates, friends. He lets himself fall onto the couch beside Lang who elbows him with a smile, a pale and sweaty smile but a smile nonetheless. There is little time for them to chat and catch up because the results are up on the monitors within moments of him sitting down. He looks for himself in the bottom, but for the Blue team, the bottom consists of Steve Rogers and James Barnes, neither of them with a rank. Ranks for Blue end at eight. Eight because that's the decent thing to do.

  
  


Top Six of each group make it through plus two wild card spots and just because Tony can't see himself at the bottom, doesn't mean he didn't miss the cut. He can't bring himself to look so he checks Green first:  
  


1\. Daisy Johnson

2\. Gemma Simmons

3\. Alfonso Mackenzie

4\. Wanda Maximoff

5\. Loki Odinson

6\. Leo Fitz  
  


The boy Maximoff didn't make it. It surprises Tony, but it doesn’t surprise him that his sister did. From all he heard, she’s fierce and determined and uses her inexperience to her advantage. That's something you need in this training. He's surprised Loki scraped by. He knows he hadn't been in the Top Five a month ago and somehow that neither comforts nor calms Tony down. He looks at Orange because he really has no other choice to procrastinate.

1\. Grant Ward

2\. Jane Foster

3\. Claire Temple

4\. Scott Lang

He doesn’t finish the list, because Grant is a team leader now. That’s a huge surprise and Tony isn’t sure how that makes him feel. Grant had been cordial when Tony returned, clapped with everyone else, smiled at him, but he’d kept his distance. With 20 people, there will four groups, so someone else from the runners up will become a lead, the one closest to the lowest new leader score. However, there are no cheers, no exclamations of excitement, nothing but quiet murmurs as he becomes aware that everyone around him is staring. At him. Probably because they didn't expect him to get cut so soon. Or maybe because his score doesn't reflect a cut and he is-

  
  


"Would you just read the damned score board?" Natasha says and Lang put his hand on Tony’s head and turns his head to look at the screen with the results for Blue.  
  


1\. Natasha Romanov - well that is to no one's surprise

2\. Anthony Stark

3\. Sam Wilson

4\. James Rhodes

5\. Cli- wait…

He stares at the screen. Something has to be wrong. Maybe he's having a seizure or his brain refuses to accept that he's out. But all he can see is _2\. Anthony Stark_ and the difference between him and Romanov is less than point two-five. Less than one quarter of a percent. He bites his lip because the only reason he is second is because Rogers-

  
  


"Hey Stark," Natasha smiles at him. "Gotta do better if you want my gig. You got to fly her first, but I'm taking her to Mars."

  
  


The banter feels natural until they get to the part when Loki is supposed to interrupt with a long suffering sigh about how it is obvious that he will go to Mars and leave them both behind but to please water his plants. It doesn't happen because Loki isn't here. He's on his way back with the Green kids. Tony sighs and closes his eyes. He made it. He made it to the next round despite everything, despite the treats, despite all he overheard. Pepper and Fury had worked relentlessly to keep his scores true and this is it. He’s the second best in his group, and a glance back to the boards tells him that overall, only Grant, Natasha, Johnson and Foster did better than him. If this were the final cut, he’d be part of the mission. He takes a deep breath to expel the thoughts that wish Loki would tell him how proud he is.

  
  


The interim-and for some, exit- interviews go well. It appears that in light of everything that happened, Tony gets a relatively easy pass on his anti-social behaviour. Pierce isn't there and Fury looks at him intently but never says a word while Doctor Potts conducts the interview. Something is going on, but Tony doesn't ask. He doesn't want to know. He doesn't want to be involved. Whatever grace, god, power, or chance had gotten him past this hurdle, he wouldn't give up now. If he doesn't make it, it will be because he isn't good enough not because he's a pawn in some political play.

  
  


They let him go and tell him to check the board outside for assignments. There they are four teams of five, unnamed yet, but that will be up to the team. They are merely indicated by letters. He’s on team B, Wilderness Training with Johnson as his leader, Wilson, Fitz, and Temple. The Wilderness group always teams up with another team. It’s Grant’s team, and Tony isn’t sure how he feels about that. It’s Grant, Simmons, Carter, Barton, and Mackenzie. His team isn’t paired with Loki’s. Loki is off on Arctic training somewhere in the northernmost tundra of Alaska. They are not on the same team. Tony exhales, but the unease doesn't immediately go away. It's settled in for the long haul, and Tony isn’t so sure that it has only to do with Loki. For now, he needs to focus on the task that lies ahead of them.

  
  


Wilderness training means two weeks in the middle of nowhere, usually a forest environment, he guesses somewhere in Washington state. Sometimes it’s a mountainous region as well, but the year is well into fall and mountain camping is unpredictable during fall and spring. Somewhere that is temperate enough this time of year to allow them to concentrate on survival without a high chance of getting killed through exposure. The Arctic training folks would have to worry about that. Two groups in the forest, one in each of the training pod environments. Cramming more than five people in the pods would make it impossible to have any sort of accurate measure of skill. Tony's been in those pods. Five people’s tight enough already. Good luck to them. He's just glad he doesn't have to be in an enclosed space with Loki.

  
  


The next step is to take the binder with his name on and follow instructions. He is to pack and report to his team leader by 1500. That he can do. And as he packs his belongings, he notices all of Rogers' things are gone. He checks his phone, but there has been no message from him. No message and no activity. Tony closes his eyes and takes a deep breath as he puts the last of his clothes into the suitcase. He won't need any of his things. They will be issued standard clothes, backpacks, rations, and all. They'll get to keep their phones, but without chargers or signal they won't do much good other than to document their journey to post on social media later.

  
  


He puts his suitcase on the floor and looks around the room one last time. When he gets back in two months, he will either be on his way home or he will be in mission-specific training with nine others. Which means that when he gets back, he will either be cut or be at the very least part of the backup crew to Mars. When he gets back, he is one step closer to Mars. When he gets back, he’s going to make his dreams come true as cheesy as that sounds in his head. For Rogers and most definitely for Barnes. Because they both deserve to still be here. Because no one should have died during training. It will never be right, but Tony can give it as much meaning as he possibly can.

 


	10. He Tried

 

Wilderness survival training always reminds Tony of summer camp. The genuine version of the luxurious millionaires’ kids carted off into mini mansions in the forest for two months to give their parents some R&R type of camp that Tony had known until he went off to MIT at the tender age of 16. Tony learned quickly during his first mission training that he much preferred to sleep on a roll under a tarp or the stars. Preferably under the stars as a reminder that he belongs out there among them. So, this round of training isn’t unfamiliar territory. He’s dealt with this; he understands this. It’s something he can handle and frankly, he enjoys. Even when he’s put on wood collection duty by Johnson. Those eight months in flight training had served her well. While she’d been confident before, now she had the calm of a leader as well. Tony can see her doing well and moving forward within the program. Right now, he can barely see his hand in front of his eyes, so he pulls his flashlight from his pocket and carries the armful of wood back to the camp.

 

To his credit, he doesn’t drop the cut up branches the moment he sees Loki standing beside the small fire in the middle of camp. To his credit, he doesn’t start saying the first things that come to mind when he sees the man’s camp bag by his feet. To his credit, he doesn’t turn away when Loki catches his eye, but keeps his face neutral and detached as he nods in greeting. He places the wood onto the pile beside the fire and finds Johnson who talks quietly with Grant.

 

“Wood should last through the night now.” He reports, hoping his voice won’t betray him. “Noticed we have a late arrival.”

 

“Last minute swap with Carter,” Johnson walks with him like she isn’t ushering him to a more private spot. “Not sure what’s going on myself. Grant doesn’t either, so we just roll with it. You okay?”

 

“Nominal.” He says, but he doesn’t mean it. He hopes that if he keeps pretending like it’s true, he’ll end up okay by default.

 

An hour later, Tony closes his eyes as he sits around the small fire on which a pot filled with bean stew bubbles vigorously. The rock he sits on is uncomfortable, digging painfully into his glutes and hamstrings. There are ten of them in two small camps and of course Loki’s part of this camp because Carter would have been part of this camp. Not that it would make much of a difference but at least Tony wouldn’t have to sit across from him with nothing but a fire between them. He truly had believed that spending eight months apart from Loki would settle the pain and anger he felt every time he thought of him. He hates how wrong he is. While Tony knows he’s called off whatever he and Grant had going on, he wishes Grant would hurry up with whatever he was doing and join the fire. Johnson and Simmons awkwardly try to keep a conversation going, but it fizzles until they all sit in silence.

 

 

Tony tries not to look across the fire, tries not to look at Loki who just sits there like he’s supposed to be there. When he had been gone, the emotions had been gone. Okay, maybe not entirely, but the experience in the pod made Tony feel like he’d be able to handle thinking of Loki. Maybe even seeing him occasionally during training. Not sitting across from him on the other side of the fire. Not being part of his team after a last minute substitution had to be made. Not when they are in the middle of nowhere in the middle of fucking nowhere relying on each other to survive. Tony stands up slowly. His hands are still stiff from the cold while foolishly collecting firewood without the provided gloves, but he can't stay here. Not when Loki sits across from him like nothing ever happened, like they actually are at a point where they can talk to each other.

 

He has to walk around the fire and past Loki to get back to his tent. He thinks he can at least manage that, but then Loki says something to him. It’s not a mistake. Loki looks straight at him with tired blue eyes and speaks. Tony can’t make out a single word of what is said to him. The peace of the past eight months was wiped away when the tightness in his chest returns. He feels almost exactly how he did when Loki had said those words, those god damned words that destroyed everything: "I am fucking someone else." He takes a deep breath and walks back to his tent, but he can't settle down, not enough to go to sleep. Maybe if he goes for a walk. Maybe he can figure this out if he get some distance between the camp and him. He starts to walk at first, but his legs refuse to stay still, his lungs want to work harder, much harder. He jogs and then he runs with nothing but the flashlight of his phone to guide him. They don't have to hand those in until a couple of days from now when they will truly be alone.

 

He runs, because running takes the pain he feels away. Takes away the tightness in his chest. As soon as he slows down, it comes back. As soon as he slows down he can see Loki's face, the way he looked at him after they had signed their names, officially married. The way Tony had felt loved all these years and the way Loki had looked at him in the hallway, like he was a nuisance, like he was a disgusting bug that needed to be flicked away. Those lies, all those lies. And for what? He never had that answer. He never was told "I love someone else." no it had been "I am fucking someone else." Fucking. Like it means nothing, but still was better than what he had with Tony.

 

A root trips him and he falls. Tony is so surprised, he can't even catch himself. He hits the ground hard, air knocked out of his chest, he barely is able to throw his arm up to prevent himself from hitting his head on the stump of a tree. This is it. This is him on the floor with nothing. He is just a fragile wannabe astronaut who could never handle a true emergency in space if this is how he reacts to the slightest bit of pressure. He is a fraud, an utter fraud. They had been right, he should be getting cut from the program after this. Tony runs a hand across his face, meaning to wipe away the sweat, to clear his mind, but instead he covers his face with dirt, scratches his eyes with small twigs and thorns stuck to his hand. Pepper and Fury are wrong. He himself had been wrong. He’s not meant to go back to space. In fact, as soon as they get back, he will resign to spare himself the embarrassment of being a pawn in someone's political game or having to endure Loki’s presence any further.

 

"Tony?" He hears Grant's voice. Of course it’s Grant. Grant who is always there. Grant who whispers sweet assurances whenever Tony feels weak. Grant who distracts him when Tony doesn’t think he can continue. Grant who fucks him in utility closets, behind trees, and in the pool when people could walk in on them, when people could see. Grant who never holds his hand, who never pretends like they are more than fuck buddies having fun. Grant who is always, always there even after respecting that Tony didn’t want things to continue. Always there. Tony lies still, he’s dizzy, and still can't catch his breath. Maybe if he doesn’t move, Grant will go away, because maybe Grant is what’s wrong with him. Grant who is always there. Grant who calls his name again and then, like he has tracked him down, finds him.

 

"Oh God, Tony, are you all right?" He kneels beside Tony, helps him sit, but Tony still can't breathe because whatever he does, he can’t seem to get away from this.

 

"No." He wheezes because his lungs tighten, his bronchioles clench shut. His chest hurts so much, burns like fire when he inhales in tiny gasps.

 

"Tony, Tony, slow down," Grant's hand is gentle on his lower back to ground him, to steady him.

 

"Can't." He manages, but he is so dizzy the world begins to fade at the edges, begins to fuzz and darken. There are spots that chase across his vision.

 

"Come on, you have to calm down," Grant cups Tony's face with his hand, "please, for me."

 

"Can't." Tony’s going to pass out right here, right now. He can feel it. He knows it. And he is okay with it.

 

"No you have to hold on, please," Grant sounds panicked and there is something against Tony's lips. Cold. Steel. One of the water bottles. "Please drink some water. Let me help you."

 

And Tony drinks. He can't even taste it he is so thirsty. He puts his trembling hand on Grant's as he drinks, looks the man in the eye as he smiles. The man smiles. Fucking smiles. Like he's the sweetest boyfriend Tony will ever have. But the dizziness does not subside. It changes and when he finishes the last drop, when he swallows for the last time, he can taste it. He can taste the bitter tang, the sharp burn. He licks the vodka from his lips, astringent, tart, and everything he knew he ever wanted to taste. He stares at Grant with disbelief.

 

"You." His voice is slurred, not yet from the alcohol, but from the shock. He can feel his teeth chatter. Those are litre bottles. Even if it wasn’t half full, Ward had given him vodka. "What did you do?"

 

"I am helping you, Anthony." Grant whispers into his ear.

 

"Why would you do that?"

 

"Because I know this will help you calm down." Grant looks utterly hurt. "Because I didn’t know what else to do because I- I love you."

 

Tony stares at him. For a moment, his alcohol addled brain wants him to push Ward to the ground, wants to rip his clothes off and fuck him like he has never been fucked to show him the kind of love that he wants. But Ward gave him alcohol and he isn’t drunk enough yet to let that go.

 

"Get away from me.” He says, surprisingly calm and pushes himself up to his feet, but he can barely see, and he isn’t sure when he had lost his phone, but it’s not in his pocket when he checks.

 

"Tony, please." Ward grabs his arm to pull him close.

 

"Get away from me." Tony doesn’t just feel ill because of the alcohol, but because Ward knows. Ward knows he’s an alcoholic. Ward know that this would push him off sobriety and worse, end his career. Ward had known all along and he’d still chosen to do this.

 

"Did you know he’d be on our team? Did you- or that guy Pierce make it so he was?" Tony spits and wonders if there is time to make himself sick. Ward does not answer, but smiles gently.

 

"Tony, I am here to help you."

 

"Is that what you do? Help?"

 

"This is the PTSD taking, Tony," Ward extends his hand. "Come here, I will make you feel so good, you will not remember he is here."

 

For moment, Tony hesitates, but then fatigue-or the alcohol, it doesn’t matter now- hits him. He is so fucking tired and just wants to not feel like shit anymore. He just wants to be held and loved.

 

"I’ll resign." He whispers as he leans against Ward's chest. "I can't do this anymore."

 

"You’re okay." Ward kisses his jaw, his lips. Gently pulls him closer. "You’re okay as long as you stay with me."

 

"I am okay." Tony whispers. "As long as I’m with you."

 

Ward smiles, broadly, Tony can feel it against his cheek.

 

"Lie down for me, babe," he whispers in Tony's ear. "You need to rest."

 

"Okay," Tony nods and stumbles to the ground in a haze of alcohol and lingering panic. He feels detached and strangely better than he has in months. For the first time since Loki left, he feels calm and clear and he knows Ward will take care of him. He will be okay. He will be okay.

 

But Ward does not lie down with him, does not seduce him, does not fuck him until he can't remember his name. Ward gets up, tells him to wait and what can Tony do? He can barely make out his own hand in front of him, let alone force his legs to walk. Everything will be okay. What Ward did is for the best. This is who Tony is and he has been a fool for trying to pretend otherwise. He is an alcoholic. He is not an astronaut. He is an alcoholic and that is all he will ever be. At least Grant Ward promises to love him regardless.

 

However, he doesn’t pass out. He isn’t swept into unconsciousness. Through the haze of drunken misery, he hears voices, agitated voices. And something compels him to investigate. He turns, his limbs flailing without control for a moment, but somehow, he manages to turn to his side, somehow, he manages to push himself to his hands and knees, dead leaves sticking to him as he does. Slowly, he tries to stand, but the world- even if he cannot see it- shifts beneath his feet, he barely makes it upright before he stumbles forward and falls back to the ground.

 

Everything hurts now, but he doesn’t care. Drunken curiosity demands he investigate. The voices are still there, hushed, on edge, and somehow, he knows he has to get closer, has to hear what they say. He pushes his forearms and the muscles scream. They give out at first, land his face in the dank humus on the forest floor. He feels something warm and wet trickle down his cheek, but he keeps pushing until he crawls forward, dragging himself toward the voices while he still can utilize what little command he has over his body. He stumbles, crawls, and mostly falls when suddenly, the voices are clear. He blinks the dirt from his eyes and looks ahead.

 

Loki. Loki stands illuminated by the moonlight which falls through a small break in the trees. And in front of him, there is Ward. Tony ducks- falls- to the ground. He is sure that his fall must have attracted their attention, but there is no reaction from them. Too involved in their own conversation, Tony’s presence goes unnoticed.

 

"Are you really going to keep arguing this?" Ward says, looking exasperated.

 

"You know our deal." Loki hisses and Tony's body suddenly feels ice cold. "You know our deal and this is not it."

 

"Deals change, you have to understand. I know why you’re here, what strings you had to pull to switch with Carter. He is better off away from you."

 

"I won’t give up this opportunity." Of course, that is all that matters to Loki now, Tony feels ill.

 

“You mean the opportunity to keep an eye out for your beloved Anthony.”  
  
“I won't do it.” Tony can’t see Loki’s face, but he can hear his voice, and if he were sober, he would be able to form thoughts beyond basic comprehension.

 

"Once I release this file, you will have no choice. What you would be doing is just avoiding undue embarrassment."

 

"I never slept with her. You know I didn’t." Loki spits.

 

"Of course you didn’t, but combined with the files on Tony Stark's less than stellar behaviour, who is going to believe you? You covered up one thing, there is nothing that would stop you from doing it again. And after all, you do want to keep Tony safe."

 

What is Ward talking about? Tony moves closer, somewhat mindful of the space surrounding him to avoid being detected.

 

"I do." Loki's lips are thin and his knuckles white as he clenches his fists.

 

"Of course you do, so what will you do?"

 

"Stay away."

 

"And?"

 

"And what?"

 

"And resign." Ward prompts. “Come on, let’s hear it before I add a confession to sexual harassment into the deal.”

 

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

 

"Loki," Ward pulls his phone out of his pocket. "Don’t make me do this." He flashes the phone at Loki. Tony can't see what it is, but the way Loki's shoulders slump. The way he nods, Tony can't feel any hate or any anger. He pushes himself up. He can't feel his lips either or his feet, but somehow, he moves forward, towards them.

 

"I’ll stay away and re-"

 

"What the fuck?" Tony stumbles between them. He can barely stand and looking from one to the other makes him think he may throw up.

 

"Babe, I told you to wait for me." Ward says and steps beside Tony, wraps his arm around his waist.

 

Loki looks confused.

 

"What’s going on?" Tony slurs again. "What deal do you have?"

 

"Did you fuck him?" Loki says, suddenly his brows furrow as confusion gives way to the cold and detached face Tony remembers so well.

 

"What the hell does that matter to you?" Tony slurs again trying to pull away from Ward, but the man's fingers dig painfully into his waist.

 

"It is fine, Tony, he can know." Ward kisses Tony's cheek like they are suddenly a couple. "After you left him, someone needed to pick up the pieces. Someone needed to take care of him. Show him a bit of fun, how to let go." He tugs his fingers into Tony's waist band. "He is really quite pliable once you know which buttons to push." His thumb caresses the barely exposed skin over Tony's waistband and the alcohol in Tony's body makes him gasp.

 

"I don't know what’s going on." Tony slurs and tries to pull away from Ward. He needs to figure this out, needs to understand what is happening.

 

"He-" Loki begins.

 

"Be very careful what you say next." Ward tightens his grip on Tony.

 

"I just wanted you to be safe." Loki's voice breaks as he speaks. "I just wanted you to be safe, I didn’t know what else to do. You have to believe that I am sorry. Whatever happens, know it always was my fault, never yours."

 

"Safe?" Tony's brain tries to push through the haze of alcohol. "What are you talking about?"

 

"They were going to kick you out, Tony." Ward whispers in his ear. "Because they found out about your secret wedding, but I kept you safe. He asked me to. He seduced me, told me he would do anything for me- especially sexually- if I could get them to keep you in. He didn’t want you getting kicked out on his conscience. So he got me drunk-"

 

"The fuck is this?" Tony's brain- in a moment of clarity- tells his elbow to move. It connects hard with Ward's nose and Tony stumbles away from him. He knows he is going to fall, knows he is not going to catch himself, but he does not fall. Loki catches him, steadies him, and- Tony can tell- reluctantly lets him go while Ward is doubled over holding his face.

 

"Please tell me." Tony looks at Loki.

 

"You are drunk." Loki takes a step back. "You reek of alcohol. You are drunk."

 

"He gave it to me." Tony looks at Ward. "He told me it would calm me down. I- I'm not sure what happened.”

 

"You did not kno-"

 

"Just fucking tell me what's going on! I'm tired. I'm done. I just want answers."

 

"I blackmailed him." Ward says. Tony whips around and nearly loses his footing. "I blackmailed him to break up with you. I told him if he did not comply I would release information that proves that NASA not only turned a blind eye but also falsified your blood work to cover up the fact that you flew drunk."

 

"That's not true. You know it's not." Tony baffles, he does not even know what to possibly make of this. “Why do all this?”

 

"It’s a political play." Loki steps closer to Tony. "Even untrue, by the time that's verified, the scandal alone would require half of management to step down. He-"

 

"-needed some time to get things set up, yes," Ward smiles, something in his hand glistens in the moonlight. "You break up with your husband and he runs toward the first person to show him a little kindness."

 

"You are sick." Loki spits.

 

"Not at all." Ward smiles. "Come here, Tony."

 

"No." Tony looks at Ward with disgust and takes an unsteady step back. "Was that your plan? To drive me insane? To feed me alcohol? To get rid of me like this? All for what?"

 

"Power." Ward smiles. "But now you know my secret and I really can't let you tell anyone else." He lunges forward.

 

The world slows suddenly. Something catches the light of the moon and gleams through the night air- the same thing Tony noticed moments ago. It’s a knife. Tony should have realized sooner, but alas here they are. Ward lunges at him, but before he can, Loki's shoulder is in his chest shoving him to the ground.

 

"Run!" Loki shouts as he grabs Ward's arm, but Tony's feet don’t comply immediately. He stumbles a few steps before he falls down. He’s too drunk. He’s drunk. Oh fuck, he is drunk.

 

"I can't," he wants to say but it comes out as a sob.

 

Everything he worked for has crumbled beneath him. Everyone he has ever trusted has betrayed him. Maybe it’d best if he dies. Maybe that will give the people around him peace, give him peace. A few steps from him, Loki fights with Ward. No, he doesn’t just fight with Ward, he stands between him and Tony. Loki is defending Tony with everything he has left. It’s Tony that Ward wants right now and Loki fights to stop him. Only Ward is stronger than Loki. The knife comes down on Loki’s arms and shoulder in quick slashes. Tony's stomach tightens when he hears Loki cry out in pain but never give up any space to Ward. Ward who wants Tony and he’ll kill Loki to get to him. Against the screaming muscles in his body, Tony pushes himself standing. He can’t allow that to happen.

 

"You want me?" He shouts at Ward. "Come get me." Running from Ward isn’t particularly graceful or fast. Tony hears Loki shout after him, but he can’t make out the words. He does know Ward is on his tail, knows that Ward will shake off Loki as fast as he can and come after him. Because Tony is drunk, because it is plausible to explain away drunk Tony attacking Ward and getting maimed or killed in the process. He runs and all he can hear is the rustle of steps across the forest floor, his and Ward's. He keeps running, not sure where he is going to go, but he knows he has to keep Ward on his tail, has to keep him from-

 

Ward tackles him to the ground. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Tony had too much alcohol, too little water and food, and Ward had been on the upper hand the whole time. Not just now, but the entire past eight months, from the moment Tony stepped foot into the trainin centre. Every move had been calculated to get Tony here, to get him to the point where Tony is drunk in the forest, on his back trying to fight Ward off him. If he doesn’t, he knows he will die and Ward is going to claim he had defended himself or that it was an accident. Perhaps he would even frame Loki. Loki, whom had-

 

Tony finds himself standing on his feet, but he does not remember getting up. Ward must have dragged him upright. There is a knife at his throat. He shudders when Ward licks his cheek with a smile and grinds himself against Tony. Of course he's hard. Of course he gets off on this. Ward opens his mouth to say something, but Tony whips his head back and splits the man's lip. He hits the ground hard, Ward on top of him, tearing at his clothes, reaching for the knife he must have dropped because Tony doesn't feel his throat slit or a knife between his ribs. In a last ditch effort, Tony's brain dumps adrenaline, dumps everything it has into his blood stream because suddenly, they are rolling over the ground when suddenly, the ground is gone. For a moment, Tony feels weightless, but then he slams into the rock wall below the cliff he and Ward went over, Loki's hands wrapped tight around his forearm as he pulls Tony up and they both collapse to the ground panting heavily in silence for a long time.

 

"I'm sorry." Loki breaks the silence, his voice timid.

 

"You lied to me." Tony closes his eyes and presses his hands against his face.

 

"I know."

 

"You betrayed me."

 

"Because I love you."

 

"You can't say that right now." Tony pushes himself sitting. "You can't give me that excuse."

 

Loki doesn’t reply.

 

"You abandoned me to be his toy."

 

"He was going to get you kicked out." But the tone in Loki's voice tells him the man knows it’s not a defense.

 

"Did it occur to you that he was going to do that anyhow?"

 

"No." Loki sighs. “At least not at first. That's why I convinced Fury to switch Carter and I.”

 

"I'm drunk." Tony says and he is proud that he hasn't slurred too much. But that pride fades away with the realization that he's drunk. “It does not even matter that he is gone, ."

 

"I fucked up." Loki sounds miserable and there is an instinct in Tony that wants to move towards him, hold him, tell him everything will be okay. He doesn’t.

 

"So did I," Tony sighs and runs a hand over his face, "he manipulated me this entire time. Made me think I liked him, wanted him, everything he did was calculated to get me to the point of breaking, so he could feed me alcohol and get the drunk kicked out but you, you were there."

 

"I saw you run into the forest," Loki sits up as well and now in the moonlight, Tony can tell he has several deep cuts on his arms, his neck and face. "I spent the past eight months regretting everything I did to you and I wanted to at least make sure you wouldn’t accidentally run off a cliff in the dark. He must have heard me coming and you saw the rest."

 

"You defended me."

 

"What was I going to do, leave you to be killed? Even if I didn’t still love you, I am not that heartless."

 

"You," Tony looks at Loki, "you still love me."

 

"I understand that you don’t."

 

"If I'm honest, I don't know what I feel." Tony manages to stand, the immediate drunkenness had waned with the adrenaline rush but he still found himself rather unsteady. "All this didn't just happen a couple of weeks ago. I haven’t seen you in almost a year and you told me it was over and that you annulled the marriage certificate." Loki doesn’t look at him. "That was a lie too, wasn't it? Of course it was." Tony runs a hand over his face again. "I can't do this. What am I supposed to trust? Everything Ward has said has been a lie. Everything you have said has been a lie. And now I have to deal with whatever the fuck being tricked into drinking vodka does to a recovering alcoholic. Yay!" He rolls his eyes and looks around. He has no fucking idea where he is or where he needs to go in order to make it back to camp. "And I am fucking lost in the forest. So even if I wanted to, I can't even resign because I don't know where to go to do it!"

 

"Anthony."

 

"Do not call me that!" Tony spits. "You lost the right to call me that eight months ago when you lied to my fucking face."

 

"I will go." Loki doesn’t make a move to stand. "When we get back to camp, I’ll explain everything and resign. You don't deserve to suffer because I fucked up."

 

"See that is where it gets fucking shitty: I don't want that. I don't want you to go. I don't even want you go right now. What I want is to curl up beside you and close my eyes with the hope that I will wake up and this fucking nightmare will finally be over, that this is just some epic anxiety dream and then when I wake up, we are in our apartment getting up the day they make the calls. That's what I want. And I can't have that, because this is what’s real and that fucking makes my heart hurt because you are here and you are fucking injured because you tried to protect me and I am drunk and I don't want to be and everything I do is going to be questionable and impulsive. I just want this to be over."

 

That's when Tony notices the worry in Loki's eyes as he glances at the cliff edge that is not too far from their feet. His entire body tenses as if he's ready to- Ah fuck, Loki thinks he's going to jump.

 

"I want to kiss you." He says before he can think. "I want to tell you that I love you, but I know it means nothing while I’m drunk." He sits back down, still close to the cliff. "And I don't know where I am and that makes everything worse."

 

"We should find shelter." Loki says and gets up. He extends his hand to help Tony up. "If we keep walking in the dark without a flashlight or GPS we'll only get more lost and the coldest part of the night is still to come."

 

As soon as Tony stands, Loki lets go of his hand, but Tony can feel the gentle squeeze, that small gesture of reassurance. Together, they walk slowly between the trees until they find a part where the underbrush is particularly thick, where bushes grow right around the trees reaching for sunlight. It is a bit warmer here, Tony notes because as the alcohol wears off, he can feel the cold begin to creep in. Loki tells him to wait and breaks off a few leafy branches and spreads them on the floor. He winces in pain as takes off the torn hoodie and places it on top of them.

 

"This should keep you warm." He says and sits down beside the small nest he made. It’s just for Tony.

 

"Fuck no," Tony picks up the hoodie and sits on the branches. "I’m not going to let you freeze to death because you’re trying to silence the guilt that you feel. And someone needs to look at those fucking cuts before we go to sleep."

 

"They stopped bleeding already and there is nothing either of us can do for them without light."

 

"Fine," Tony tosses the mangled sweater at Loki and lies down on the branches, "but I am not letting you freeze to death out there. You are going to lie here with me. I don't care if you like it or if it makes you feel too guilty. You need to make it through the night because I’m too intoxicated to know just how badly wounded you are, but my guess is you hurt a fucking lot more than you let on. So you are going to lie here and share body heat with me."

 

To his surprise, Loki complies and lies down beside him. They touch, they have to in order to keep warm, but it’s utilitarian, not a shared tender moment. There is no sudden realization that Tony still loved Loki all long or that they know their love can make it past all this. After all, this isn’t a romantic comedy and they are not star-crossed lovers. Tony closes his eyes and sooner rather than later falls asleep.

 

Tony wakes because he can't stop shaking. His head hurts like a bunch of horses trampled him last night. His mouth is dry and his throat feels like he's swallowed glass. When he moves, all his muscles ache- probably from the shaking, oh yeah, and the various falls and brawls from last night. In short, he feels like shit. And just when he's decided he hasn't felt worse, he remembers what he said to Loki before they'd gone to sleep. Now he's never felt worse. Of course, he knows it was the alcohol, but that hasn't been an excuse in a decade. Loki isn't beside him when he finally opens his eyes. That explains the freezing. He turns around, trying to suppress the harsh reality that Loki likely has gone off to find someone, that they wouldn't get a chance to talk. That last night, he had given the final blow to their already dead relationship. But Loki is still there, crouching beside a small pile of leaves and twigs. He looks so fucking tired, but he's still there, still trying to make a fire.

 

"I'm an asshole," Tony's voice feels like gravel in his throat. Loki looks up at him, dark rings under his blood shot eyes. There is fresh blood dripping down his fingers, no doubt from the slash wounds Ward had inflicted earlier.

 

"It wasn't you." Loki says quietly, refusing to look at Tony. He's hurt. Of course he is. Tony had- and apparently still has- a knack for saying shitty things to the people he cares most about when he's drunk. Last night, consenting or not, was no different.

 

"Doesn't matter." He gets up to kneel beside Loki despite how loud his muscles scream. "Please let me help." He says gently and offers to take the flint from Loki's trembling hands. And Loki lets him. Despite his sore body, it takes Tony a lot less time to strike a spark on the flint and get a fire going than it would have taken Loki who seems to have an incredibly hard time even moving his arms now.

 

"We can't be too far from camp." Loki says, watching the flames. "They're looking for us by now. They'll see the smoke from the fire."

 

"You wanna know what's fucked up?" Tony slides another branch into the fire with a sad chuckle. "The moment I saw you again, it felt like nothing had changed, like the past eight months never happened and that it was yesterday that you closed that door after telling me it's over."

 

"You don't know how much I want that to be true." Loki sighs and wipes the blood off his hand with his sleeve.

 

"Let me see that?" Tony looks at Loki's arms with worry.

 

"I am fine." Loki hisses and cringes when he moves. "Perhaps not fine."

 

"I know." With gentle fingers, Tony rolls up Loki's sleeve. There's is more hissing and cringing as he reveals deep gashes across Loki's arms. The bleeding had stopped for the most part, which is good, but some of the cuts look deep and probably should have received stitches. "Thank you, for helping me. You didn't have-"

 

"Had to." Loki says, green eyes rimmed with red, "I owe you much more than that, but that much I owed you."

 

Tony closes his eyes, still gently holding Loki's arm. There isn't anything he can do for the cuts. Both their shirts are stained with dirt, so that's not an option either. He slowly rolls the sleeve back down and holds Loki's hand in his. Loki doesn't look at him, but Tony can feel the tension slowly dissipate as he brings his mouth to Loki's palm and kisses it.

 

"This okay?" He asks when he can hear Loki exhale with a sigh. But Loki nods.

 

"Yes," he whispers, and looks like he's going to say something else for a moment but then closes his mouth, still more relaxed than he as looked since Tony's seen him again.

 

And Tony, well, he ignores the pain still in his body and the nausea that has begun welling in his guts and moves to kneel beside Loki. So much shit has happened, what Loki did, what Tony did, what Ward had done to them. These past months had never been their own, none of their choices had been truly theirs. But now they had a choice. Not last night when Tony had drunkenly passed judgement over Loki's actions, not then, but now. He has a choice and he makes it.

 

"Still okay?" He asks as he brushes Loki's hair out of his face. The man's jaw and cheek bones are much more prominent than the last time they had spoken. The circles under his eyes are dark and overall, he looks like he's been through hell. But it doesn't matter, Loki is still fucking gorgeous.

 

"If you are going to kiss me, I really rather would like you to get to the point."

 

That's the man Tony's married. And to the point he gets, his hand rests against Loki's neck and kisses him like he should have kissed him last night, like he should have done when Loki had pushed him away all these months ago. He kisses him to make up for all the kisses they have missed and when he feels Loki's fingers clutch at his shirt he knows everything is going to be all right. It’s Tony who breaks the kiss first, not because he wants to, but because he can feel Loki tense with pain. They still need help.

 

"Easy, Loke," he whispers in Loki's ear, "literally not out of the woods yet."

 

"I hate you." But Tony can feel Loki's smile against his cheek. It takes a lot of will and effort to push himself standing but he manages without being drawn back to Loki. He collects some of the branches they slept on the night before. Leaves still green and fresh. It would cause a lot of smoke, hopefully enough to find them. He throws them on the fire and sits beside Loki, wrapping his arms around him to keep him warm.

 

"They'll find us." He whispers and he's not sure if he's trying to convince Loki or himself. He watches the smoke as Loki relaxes against him and drifts off to sleep.

 

"Tony?" He startles after dozing off and sits up when he hears his name from afar. "Loki?" He can't make out who it is, can't even bring himself to shout that they're here. All he can do is nudge Loki gently, so he can hear to, so he also knows they're finally, finally safe. Tony sees figures walk closer. Johnson's face appears in front of him, asks him questions, but he can't find the strength to talk.

 

“It's okay.” She says and forces a smile through the worry on her face. “You're both okay. Medical is on their way. You don't have to talk, just squeeze my hand if you understand what I said.”

 

Tony can hear the faint sounds of a helicopter coming closer when Johnson takes his hand in hers. He'll be okay. Loki will be okay. He squeezes Johnson's hand and sees her face change to relief. He isn't done yet, not by a longshot.

 

 

 


	11. Intermission II: Conversations With Loki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for situations of blackmail and Ward being his creepy villain self (which I love in case that's unclear. I love villain!Ward so much)

**A conversation between Grant Ward and Loki Odinson**

 

Loki sat on a bench with his eyes closed soaking up the last rays of the sun before dinner. He felt guilt for what he had said to Tony earlier and now, in retrospect, he understood Tony's reaction. It had all been one big misunderstanding. A bit of pretended jealous dirty talk gone terribly wrong. He felt bad, but he was certain that talking after dinner would go well and they would move past all of this quickly. It was not the first time they had an argument and it would not be the last time. They were in it for the long haul. They knew how to figure out their shit. Tony needed time to himself to work through and figure out why Loki's words pissed him off and Loki needed the same time to reflect and realize why they were not the right words to say.

 

All things considered, they were that disgusting power couple that had most of their life figured out. It was good and they were happy. The whole idea of keeping shit secret again seemed suddenly really dumb. He would tell Tony that it was really dumb and maybe wrap it in some kind of implication that Tony was right. Tony liked that, being right. He took a deep breath and was about to stand when the sun was blocked by a shadow. Loki opened his eyes slowly.

 

"Hi," Ward smiled at him. "You look like you are enjoying this fine evening."

 

"I was." It was not that Loki did not like Grant Ward, it was more that something about the man made him feel uneasy and he had felt- relief was too strong a word, but he had not felt disappointed when Ward had switched to the Orange team.

 

"May I join you?" Ward gestured at the bench. Loki noticed he was holding his phone in his hand.

 

"Everything okay?" Loki sat up straight as Ward sat beside him, much too close for comfort.

 

"No, well, yes," Ward smiled, "for me everything is perfect- okay perfect is too strong a word, everything is well. I would like it to be perfect, but for that I kind of need your help."

 

"My help?" Loki raised an eyebrow. "What is it that you need?"

 

"Oh, let us not dive straight into business," Ward smiled and it was the kind of smile that made Loki very uneasy and instinctively look for escape routes in is periphery. "First, I really wanted to congratulate you." He took one of Loki's hand in his. Loki tried to pull away but the grip tightened painfully. "No, I insist on congratulating the happy couple on their wedding."

 

"What?" Loki's mouth went dry. His heart beat in his throat as he tried to pull away.

 

"Your wedding at the New York City Hall," Ward kept smiling, "not very romantic on the surface, but to do it right before entering the MTP when you both knew you would not be able to have a honeymoon or even a remotely normal semblance of a relationship? That is so sweet."

 

"What. Do. You. Want." Loki hissed and twisted his hand out of Ward's grip. Ward who did not seem to change his friendly expression in the least. Instead, he slid closer and wrapped his arm around Loki, thumb caressing the skin just below the edge of his short sleeve.

 

"You don't even want to know how I know you and Stark got married? That is disappointing." He pulled up a screen on his phone. "What I want is for you to stay away from Stark."

 

"You can't be serious."

 

"Oh I know, it seems hilariously bizarre for me to ask you to stay away from your husband when you two have been really professional about the whole thing. I mean that, these pictures were really hard to come by."

 

The pictures were speaking for themselves: Loki, Tony, and a lot of making out because they never got much further than that.

 

"You are blackmailing me with that?" Loki sneered. "That is a little pathetic, don't you think?"

 

"My apologies, I was trying to ease us into this, but clearly you are ready for business." Ward changed the screen on his phone to show a document. "That is Stark's blood test result from right before he went up on his last STS."

 

"And?"

 

"It isn't the one NASA forged to bury evidence that Stark had a constant blood alcohol level for the entirety of his training." Ward smiled. "It would be the one- the one of many in my possession by the way- that was supposedly deleted."

 

"And unless I stay away from Stark, you are going to release these to what the press? NASA headquarters?" It couldn't be true. They would have never let fly Tony drunk. They'd never risk a manned mission like that, not in a million years, but it didn't matter what the truth was. As soon as this was released, Tony would never fly again.

 

"I knew you were quick on the uptake, Lokes."

 

"And why exactly am I staying away from him?"

 

"I am not going to tell you that just yet. Let us just say, there is a much bigger picture being painted and you are but a tiny part of it."

 

"What if he doesn't want to stay away from me?"

 

"You are a clever boy, you will think of something, because if you do not, he'll not only be kicked out of the MTB but NASA itself. And we both know, that will be a blow from which he is unlikely to recover.”

 

Loki pressed his lips together and stared straight ahead.

 

“Come on now,” Ward smiled at Loki, “don't be that way. I need you to tell me we have a deal.”

 

What Loki should have done was to get up, punch Ward in his nose, preferably break it, and then just take the consequences of the fall out. For Tony, he needed to get up, take Ward's phone, and walk straight into Fury's office and expose the blackmail, figuring out a deal to keep Tony in the program while he resigned. He tried every angle of this scenario, if he attacked Ward, surely not only would he get himself kicked out but the man likely had someone else capable of releasing the data. If he went to Fury, same outcome. There was no scenario Loki could imagine that didn't end with Tony never flying again. Still, he should be doing something, not sit here, paralysed with rage and fear unable to do anything but loathe himself when he grits "We have a deal" between his teeth. He blinks slowly and swallows the bile he can feel rising in his throat.

 

"That is right we do." Ward smiled again and moved closer. Loki could feel his breath against his ear. The hiss of Ward's voice made his hairs stand on end. And yet he doesn't move when Ward's lips brush against Loki's skin. "You know I would love to take your pretty face to bed and have my way with you, and we both know that to protect Tony, you would. You would do anything I ask of you no matter how deprived. Lucky for you, I prefer my bed partners consenting. I'll have to save all the things you'd do for my imagination, but I'll be damned if I don't tell you just how tempting you are right now.”

 

What disgusted Loki the most was that Ward, as sick and twisted as what he said sounded, it was the truth. The disgusting truth that as soon as he had moved closer, Loki had thought of luring him to bed to change his mind. And he would have done anything the man asked of him. He hated himself for it, for how weak and incapable he was to protect Tony, to protect himself. He had just sold his soul and there was nothing he could do.

 

"Is that all?" He managed to say when Ward did not move.

 

"For now." Ward got up and put his phone in his pocket. "Don't worry, I'll check up on you."

 

Without another word, he left Loki alone on the bench. Loki who got up a few minutes later and walked back into the building, dazed, confused, and sat down in a chair in the corner of the library where he sat and stared into nothing until the lights went out.

  
  
  
  
  


**A conversation between Tony and Loki from Loki's point of view**

 

Loki heard Tony come down the corridor. He knew it was him as soon as the man set foot on the floor. Of course he knew, he would recognize Tony's footsteps anywhere. He had known the man for long enough, for nearly a decade, and he had come here to talk to Loki, to figure out what the hell was going on and there was nothing Loki could do to help him understand.

 

"What do you want?" His nails dug into his palm to keep him from turning around and looking at Tony.

 

"To talk."

 

"I told you-" Loki began, but Tony would not let him continue.

 

"No," he took a step closer, "you did not. You brushed me off completely. You are trying to only interact with me on your own terms and that is not fair."

 

"Fine," Loki sighed. He knew Tony would not leave unless he got answers. Keeping him in the dark would not help. Neither would telling him the truth. "You want to talk? Talk."

 

"What the hell is going on?"

 

"Nothing is going on." He wanted to tell him, wanted so bad to reach for Tony and apologize for all the hurt he caused.

 

"Bullshit."

 

"I need time, Anthony." Time to figure out how to fight against Ward. How to take back the power he had taken.

 

"For what?"

 

"Figure out things."

 

"What things?"

 

Loki nearly told him then and there. It was so close to the surface that he had to bite his cheek until it bled.

 

"What things, Loki?" Tony repeated. Loki could feel the anger, the irritation, but above all, he could feel the hurt and it nearly killed him.

 

"I can't." He opened the door. He needed to get away. "I just-"

 

"Need time, but we both know that is bullshit. If you can't tell me, if something is wrong, you can-"

 

"Oh please, Stark.” He would figure it out. Tony would figure it all out, because Tony was the fucking smartest man Loki had ever met. Tony could figure out how any and all things worked and this was no different. As long as Loki was here as long as he gave no answers, Tony would keep digging. The only thing that he could do was tell him. He opened his mouth and just then, his phone chimed.

 

_This is not what what we agreed upon. Get rid of him_.

 

The bastard was watching them, somehow he was watching them. Loki closed his eyes.

 

"You really want to know what is going on?" There was only one way out and if he had hated himself before, he knew there would be no forgiveness after this.

 

"I think that is more than a little bit obvious."

 

"I am fucking someone else." Saying the words physically hurt. They hurt so incredibly bad he wanted to scream.

 

"What?" He could hear Tony's heart break in the man's voice.

 

"I am fucking someone else." Inside, he was tearing himself apart.

 

"Who?"

 

"Doesn't matter." Loki prayed the words came out like he meant them, that this would satisfy Ward that Loki would uphold his end of their terms. "I would have told you that I haven’t been feeling us since I got back, but then we got into the MTP and you seemed so happy. Didn’t feel like being the reason you throw your life away again. "

 

"We got married, Loki. Married. Some city clerk risked their job to forge a date on a marriage license. " They did. New York City Hall with a couple of happy tourists as their witnesses. Loki feels his insides hollow. This must be what dying feels like.

 

"Oh but do not worry yourself with that, Stark," Loki needed to sell it to Ward, so he forced himself to smile. "Turns out she was caught and our marriage annulled. The letter arrived at our apartment this morning. Miss Parker was nice enough to let me know. " There was no redemption here. There was no coming back from this. It was over. Forever. Because he made a choice.

 

"Is this a prank?"

 

"Of course not, that would be incredibly cruel." The phone chimed again.

 

_Proud of you, Lokes. You're doing very well._

 

"I have to go get ready to leave for flight training in the morning. If it is any consolation, we at least will not be around each other for a while and that can give you time to process."

 

Without another word, Loki walked into the room and closed the door behind him. He knew Tony would remain there, Tony would possibly try to follow. He did not move until he heard the door to the stairway shut. Then he punched the wall so hard he could hear his knuckles give, his bones crack. He punched it again, biting the back of his other hand as he did to keep from screaming. He stood there for a long moment, panting, and then, the pain went away. And after everything he just had done, he felt nothing. He had become the monster Ward wanted him to be.

 

Quietly, he wrapped his hand with a sock and packed his things before heading to the infirmary. Slipped working out, he lied to the nurse who patches him up. Nothing mattered any more. He was keeping Tony safe and Tony would despise him for the rest of their lives, but he now had a chance to fulfil his dream. And that meant more to Loki than anything else, or so he tried to tell himself. The world passed him by, he spent the rest of the day in his room. Natasha brought him food. He knew she didn't believe the workout accident. She did not ask what it was. He did not tell.

 

The next morning, Loki took his suitcase into the hallway and put on his jacket. Once he left, he would not return for eight whole months. He hoped that would be enough time. He hoped that it would keep Tony safe.

 


	12. Intermission III: Magnificent Desolence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another interlude as I am moving this weekend. It's been all kinds of stressful, because packing had to take priority over everything. I cannot wait until I am in my new flat and get to just relax and write for a week.

“Oh god what am I doing with my life?” Tony groaned on the bed and dropped the bottle of gin to the floor. “What am I doing? I am gonna have to go to rehab. Oh god, I need to go to rehab. What kind of astronaut goes to rehab?” Loki noticed the wet of tears beneath the man's eyes, but they did not seem register as Tony clumsily felt for the bottle. Loki was calm beside him, kicking the bottle just out of his reach. The bottle rolled into a pile of crumpled up pamphlets. Loki didn't need to straighten them to see they were for rehabilitation retreats. Sometimes Tony managed to surprise him.

 

“Buzz Aldrin for one.” He said as he picked up the bottle and put it on the bedside table. “Come on, let's get you in the shower.” He pulled Tony standing, careful to support him as the man swayed, eyes bloodshot and without focus. Not two hours ago, Loki had received a cryptic text from Tony _Sorrows be damned, I may not fly again but I'm gonna fly tonight._ Followed by increasingly deteriorating text messages and when Tony called Loki crying for help, Loki had already been on his way out the door. It was a near bi-monthly routine now, ever since they'd permanently grounded Tony. 

 

By the time Loki had made it to Tony's apartment, he'd managed to down a bottle of expensive Scotch and half a bottle of gin, no doubt in an attempt to completely obliterate his own existence. The whispering voice inside his head became attached to the word  _suicide_ , but Loki pushed the thought away. He couldn't think that right now, couldn't allow himself to dwell on that. What was important in this moment was getting Tony cleaned up and sober enough to have a conversation without him bursting into tears or throwing up or both. He'd done both before, it wouldn't even surprise Loki anymore. 

 

“Buzz Aldrin went to rehab?” Tony turned his head and looked at Loki as though his words were a lifeline.

 

“1975,” Loki offered and slowly moved Tony toward the bathroom. “We're going to take a shower now, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Tony whispered and slumped forward, limp and silent.

 

“Hey Tony?” Loki pushed him against the door frame with his hip. “Hey Tony, look at me.”

 

There was no response. Frantically, Loki felt for a pulse, for breath, for anything, anything to tell him Tony Stark did not just die in his arms. It seemed such a silly thing to think about but then and there as pale as he was, as limp as he hung there against the wall. The force with which dread expanded in Loki's chest took his breath for a moment.  
  


“Hey no, no no no,” he tapped Tony's cheek, “stay with me. You were going to take a shower remember.” He felt for Tony's pulse with one hand while holding him up with the other. It was there, steady, not strong but steady. He exhaled with relief. “Come on, Loki, work the problem.” He whispered to himself and wedged his shoulder under Tony's arm.

 

With some difficulty, he managed to carry Tony into the bathroom and into the shower. Cold, cold water, and if that did not wake him up, he'd call 911. He turned on the water only at the last moment realizing his phone was still in his pocket. He managed to fish it out and toss it out of the shower onto the counter beside the sink without dropping Tony or causing a flood. A few moments later, they were both drenched with water. Loki's teeth chattered because fuck, cold water in New York in the winter was fucking cold.

 

"Come on, Tony," he stood close and pat Tony's face again. "Come on wake up." For what felt like an eternity, Tony just hung limp, lifeless against Loki's arm. "Wake up, Anthony." Loki stared at Tony as though his will alone could rouse him, but it did not. He sighed and gently pulled the man close to lay him on his side on the bathroom floor before reaching for his phone.

 

It was then that Tony suddenly jerked, eyes open wide as he gasped inhales. "Cold! Cold! Loki!" He gripped at Loki's shirt like a drowning man and Loki couldn't help but let out a relieved breath.

 

"It's okay, you are going to be okay." Loki hoped at least. He sat as he helped Tony sit on the floor. Tony who still clutched his shirt.

 

"You- thank you." He whispered and before Loki could tell him that was what friends were for, he leaned close and kissed Loki's lips. "I always really liked you."

 

That was the fucking kick to the chest right there. Feelings and all that. Up until now, they'd been friends and only friends. Maybe a little flirtatious, but when did Tony Rocket Man Stark not flirt? But yeah, latent feelings, Loki's definitely had them and thoroughly suppressed them, because in Tony's state pursuing those would be the kind of ride Loki wasn't willing to endure. Tony Stark was a mess, a mess that would drag anyone he let close down with him. He might certainly be attractive. He might even be a good, caring person, but the alcohol drowned all of that. If Loki hadn't seen those pamphlets, if Tony hadn't mentioned rehab, it would have been the final time Loki answered Tony's calls.

 

"You have the shittiest timing." Loki did not return the kiss.

 

“I-I'm sorry,” Tony tried to push himself away. “That was messed up- I shouldn't have. I know you like guys and I-"

 

"That's not it." Loki smiled, a little sad because he knew Tony would take it as irreparable rejection. "My orientation doesn't matter right now. You need help, not a relationship."

 

"I do need help." Tony sounded like an exhausted toddler. Good, there was hope for him yet.

 

"I know you have looked at places. Is there one in particular you like?" Loki kept his voice gentle and suggestive. He didn't want Tony to change his mind about the whole thing just because he pushed a little too hard.

 

"Rowan- where is my phone?"

 

"Living room, you passed out."

 

"Oh."

 

"If we get you dried off and into new clothes, would you be willing to go?"

 

"Tonight?"

 

"Right after you're dressed."

 

There was that moment, that pause anyone helping a person with addition recovery dreaded. That silence which took forever to clear and usually was followed by an excuse or a promise to try again later. The pause that seeded mistrust and ruined everything. Loki's heard that pause enough and it was one of the many reasons that he wouldn't allow himself to give into Tony's advances.

 

"Can- can you drive me there?" Even though Loki'd expected him to say that, prayed for Tony to say that, hearing it still came as a surprise.

 

"Yeah." Loki nodded. "Yeah, I can do that, Anthony." He was not sure why he called him Anthony, just that it felt like the right thing to say at the time and Tony? Tony smiled.

 

"After I get dressed then." He carefully pushed himself standing. "Like Buzz Aldrin."

 


	13. It Ain't Easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took forever. I apologize, between Dragon Con and my health (mostly my health), it got really hard to do anything other than sleep constantly. So thank you for your patience, the final chapter will not take nearly as long, I promise.

 

The first thing that stirs Tony's subconscious from the depths of sleep is the soft murmur of voices somewhere in the same vicinity as him. The soft murmur of voices that surrounds him and then drifts away again. He doesn't wake just then, but shifts in lightened sleep. He hears fabric shift against his skin, naked skin, and the light pinch of something pulling at his chest hair. His mind is thrust into the uncomfortable consciousness which only comes with pain, unexpected pain. At first, it's foreign and sudden but then he recognizes the deep ache in the crook of his elbow, the nausea which creeps up in his throat as he pulls on the IV with every movement of his arm.

 

He stops and groans. Tony knows he should open his eyes, but he also knows the cold and sterile world that awaits him: too bright, too clean, and smelling of- campfire? He opens his eyes. Orange ceiling. He turns his head. Orange walls. Inflatable medical tent. There's a brief moment when he wonders- hopes- if the Orion landing had gone wrong and all of this had been a bad dream, a coma, something his mind conjured while medical fixed whatever he broke. It would be a wonderful and easy solution to the pain in his arm, his chest, the tightening he feels in his stomach, and as he turns his head back, he feels everything. His body is covered in contusions, cuts, scratches, he feels every sprained tendon, a deep exhaustion, and a gentle touch on his arm.

 

“Hello, Cadet Stark.” Doctor Cho appears in Tony's field of vision, kind of blurry, but he knows she's there. “You've slept for nearly a day.”

 

“Loki?” Tony tries to sit up, tries to ask to see him, but she pushes him back into his pillows with the firm, but gentle touch of someone who isn't going to allow her patient to do anything she doesn't want them to do. It's too easy for her and too hard for him to fight back. Not that Tony even believes he should. He knows better by now. What he doesn't know is how he got here or where here is.

 

"What happened? After- who found us?"

 

"Cadets Johnson and Simmons found you." There's something in Doctor Cho's eyes, something she isn't telling him. "You lost consciousness shortly after, likely due to exhaustion, dehydration and the alcohol levels in your blood. I also found traces of amphetamines in your blood, the same I found in Cadet Barnes. My staff and security have confiscated your previous blood results as the decay indicates that they have been in your system long enough to have shown up earlier. And I want to know why I never saw that."

 

"Ward? Is he-" Because Tony saw him go over that cliff, but he didn't check for a broken body at the bottom of it. And part of him worries that he'll wake up with a knife in his throat. It doesn't even compute that there's a possibility that he's been drugged for weeks.

 

"I don't know. They flew me in as soon as you were found."

 

"Can I see Loki?" Tony changes the subject because he doesn't want to dwell on Ward, doesn't want to allow his subconscious to conjure all the possibilities it could imagine. Because he knows the expanse of his imagination would send him straight back into that dark place.

 

"Yes." Doctor Cho checks the monitors beside the cot on which Tony lies, then she checks his IV which is nearly empty. She pulls a small bottle from her coat. "Your injuries would warrant a strong painkiller, but I also know both your history and what happened to you here from Cadet Odinson. So, I will you a choice. I can administer a small dose should you so choose, or I can get you some acetaminophen and we can see how that goes."

 

 

Tony looks at the bottle. He grinds his teeth for a few moments. He's in pain, a lot of pain, but he's also done being administered things. The bliss of not feeling anything, it's a strong pull, but he can't. He can't. He needs to feel all the pain right now. He needs the reminder of what happened to him. So, he shakes his head.

 

"I'll pass on the injection, thank you."

 

"Understood." She nods and puts the bottle back into her pocket. The IV is gone from his arm moments later and she nods when he moves to pluck the heart monitors from his chest. "If it gets worse, let me know and I'll see what I can do. The nurse will give you the pills, water, and a new set of clothes and when you're dressed, I will help you to the other tent. The director is on his way, but I am sure you will want some quiet time before he arrives."

 

Tony watches her leave. The nurse enters after some time passes with a white pill and clean clothes. He swallows the pill and chases it with water, but waits a few minutes before attempting to put on clothes. It turns out that once he starts to move, things are a bit easier, a little less stabbing pain and more an all over sore. He doesn't wait until Doctor Cho returns. He can't. Having learned that he could avoid most of the pain if he only moved in a single direction a time, it doesn't take him long to put on his shoes. He walks- or rather shambles- out of the tied down flap that acts as a door. If there wasn't a dividing wall in the middle of the rather sizable tent, he would have been able to just walk over to Loki's cot. But they put up the dividing wall, which means surgery, which meant Loki is much worse off than Tony.

 

As he inhales the crisp evening air, he tries to push away images of Loki, pallid and gaunt, strapped to a cot, machinery attached to keep his weakened body alive. He exhales a cloud of condensation and feels his hairs stand on end. It's cold, much colder than the night when- he tries to push away the images that try to surface. He closes his eyes for a moment, takes another breath, and regains control of his thoughts. It won't do anyone any good for him to stand outside in the freezing cold and imagine the terrible things that may have happened to Loki in the medical tent. That's why he's out here, slowly walking along the side of the tent.

 

They're no longer near the site Tony remembers, but still somewhere in the wilderness. There is a clearing not too far from the tent. He can see deer congregate among the grass as the sun sets in the distance. Surely, the site was chosen for helicopter access, but if they moved, why were they not evacuated back to civilization? He doesn't have time to speculate on questions. He still has a mission. The very covert mission of sneaking from one section of the tent to the other. He pushes the door flap and slips inside where Doctor Cho and two nurses stand around Loki. Loki whose arms are bandaged halfway up his biceps. Loki who is pale and haggard but sitting on the edge of the bed. Unlike Tony's nightmare vision, he doesn't have tubes and devices hooked up to him nor machines to support his most basic functions.

 

Instead, he talks quietly, answering questions and moving around as he sits. Doctor Cho gives him a small cup of what Tony assumes to be water which Loki accepts and empties in one fluid motion. The nightmare visions are forgotten the moment Loki sees him and as exhausted as he looks, it all falls away when he smiles at Tony. It's then that Doctor Cho and the nurses- who are terrible at hiding their smiles- realize that Tony stands a few feet away from them. She whispers 'five minutes' as she ushers the nurses out. Tony recognizes one from the initial medical examinations but the other draws a blank. That doesn't matter at this very moment, right now what matters is that Tony hopes they'll give him more than five minutes.

 

He needs more than five minutes because it feels like an eternity just to get to the bed and stand beside Loki who hasn't moved and is still sitting at the edge of it. Loki who patiently waits while Tony is trying to find words which don't seem to exist. Tony doesn't know what he can or should say. The rift between them- the rift he thought had been between them- it should be gone with Ward, but it's not. It can't be, because what happened can't be erased even if Tony's reality for the past months had been manipulated and formed by Ward the entire time. It doesn't make it any less real for him now, but there Loki is in front of him, the same love in his eyes, the same love he's always had and the same pain Tony feels inside, too.

 

When Tony opens his mouth, he doesn't recognize the sounds that come from it and at one point, his arms join in on the party and he knows, he _knows_ that it's somewhat of a disaster and it shouldn't be, but they've both been through hell and-

 

Everything falls away when he feels Loki's arms wrap around him, pull him into a close embrace. Everything becomes quiet, out of focus, and what matters is the warmth of Loki's torso against his, the soft press of lips against his neck, the words Loki whispers that Tony can't quite discern. Tony closes his eyes and wraps his arms around Loki, Loki who is here, who is alive, who doesn't hate him, who loves him, who got caught up in the same shit Tony did, the same shit Rogers and Barnes did, but fuck, they're both _alive_. They're both okay. It can't be perfect but it doesn't matter, not when with every breath, Tony inhales the scent of campfire, Loki's skin, and the forest around them, and right now, he's willing to pretend they're off camping somewhere in the northern Canadian forests.

 

“I'll be okay.” He whispers when he feels Loki tense for a moment, because he knows that's what he'll ask. He wants to lie and say he's okay but even Tony doesn't believe that. “We're both going to be okay.”

 

Carefully, he pulls away from Loki and traces the tips of his fingers over the still pristine white cloth covering Loki's wounds. “Does it hurt?”

 

“Not excessively, though I am certain that would change if I had declined the support of these delightful purple pills I have ingested.” Loki's smile is a little crooked.

 

Perhaps a little too broad as well, and now that Tony looks at him closely, the man's pupils are blown and yeah, despite the pain and what happened, that's funny.

 

“Are you high?” He asks knowing it's redundant.

 

“No!” Loki exclaims with too much enthusiasm. “I am merely following my doctor’s recommendations for pain management.”

 

Loki who barely even takes an aspirin from the drugstore for headaches. Loki who is clearly high as a fucking kite and that's perfect because it's not fucking misery. It's his husband, his gorgeous fucking husband who is stoned from whatever Cho gave him, grinning lop-sided as he's taken on a ride of blissful ignorance. Loki deserves that. He deserves so much more, but bliss and a good night's sleep is a start. So, Tony cards his hand through Loki's hair and kisses his forehead.

 

“Well then,” he smiles and it feels like a smile, like he can believe his own body again, “let me help you lie down to enjoy that not-high, then.”

 

“I love you, Anthony.” Loki murmurs mostly asleep when he lays back on the pillows and closes his eyes. He is asleep before Tony can respond and that's okay. It's all over now and everything will be okay.

 

 

 

"Hey," there's a whisper at the entrance of the tent well after Tony settled down in his bed. They had removed the divider after he'd been told in no uncertain terms that he was to rest and only rest. Loki hadn’t gotten the same lecture, mostly because Loki was out cold. Tony had also declined the offer for a sleeping aid since he'd been pretty sure he wouldn’t need any prompting to find rest. So of course, just as he's about to drift off into sleep there is a soft call by the entrance, followed by Johnson slipping into the tent. "Hey Stark," she looks behind her to make sure the door flap is undisturbed.

 

There is something different about her. She moves with purpose, but particularly careful, easily spooked by noises outside the tent. She listens with suspicion as voices passes the tent, but it turns out to simply be Doctor Cho and one of the nurses, likely from a final check-in with Loki. The circles under Johnson's eyes tell him more than her voice does. She's shaken and suspicious of everyone and everything. He gets it. He feels it, that betrayal. She'd worked with Ward well before Tony had come to know the man. Finding out someone you trust is capable of heinous things- no, crimes, they're crimes- unsettles everything.

 

"Hey." He replies but he isn't sure what else to do. Sure, he doesn't want her to think he blames her for what happened but really he also doesn't want to be around people who were close to Ward.

 

"Look, I'm sorry, I-"

 

"Don't." His voice sounds strained, tired, and perhaps there is a little bit of resentment. "No one knew what that man was capable of."

 

"That's not why I'm here." She fidgets. Why does she fidget? She's too nervous for someone who came to apologize. Too nervous, on edge, like she expects something to happen. Quietly, Tony slips a pen from the bedside table into his palm.

 

"Why are you here?"

 

"He's not dead." Johnson blurts out. "We found you and when Loki told us where Ward had fallen over the cliff, we went to look and there was no one there. We searched the area for hours, but all we found was a piece of his shirt and some blood on a rock. They told me not to tell you, but it's not fair to keep you in the dark like that. He's still alive and we don't know where he is."

 

It's a lot to take in all at once. Everything he thought was over minutes ago suddenly isn't. Everything he and Loki are leaving behind can no longer be left. If Ward is still alive, they need to figure out his endgame because there is no way the man just did that to Loki and him and Barnes- fuck, if he's still alive, Steve deserves to know.

 

"Who- who told you not to tell me?" He sits up, the pen still in his hand.

 

"I- I'm not supposed to say." She looks at the entrance flap. “It’s classified.”

 

"Is he telling you to say this to me?" Tony whispers, barely audible, but she shakes her head. It’s then that Tony realizes what exactly is going to happen. “Rogers, you and Rogers are going after him under the guise of the wilderness training.”

 

“Keep your voice down.” Steve’s voice comes from outside the tent. Quietly, he slips into the tent. He’s geared up, literally dressed in military field gear. “You’re too smart for your own good, you know that Stark?” He nods at Johnson as she excuses herself.

 

“It’s come up maybe once or twice.” Tony slowly slips out of the bed and looks over at Loki who still is fast asleep.

 

“Then you’re also smart enough not to mention this to anyone else.”

 

“Won’t get a chance to do that.” Tony moves to grab his jacket from the chair beside his bed. “I’m coming with you.”

 

“Stark,” Steve takes a deep breath, likely to not say the first thing that comes to his mind, “that’s out of the question. You-“

 

“You know what he did to me.” Tony pulls the jacket on. He knows it looks ridiculous over his hospital issue pyjamas, but he’s trying to make a point.”

 

“I read the report.” Steve says nothing else but his lips draw to a fine line. Of course he knows what Ward did.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m-.”

 

“Exhausted,” Steve steps to squeeze his shoulder, “heartbroken, angry, so angry if you had him here you’d more than likely kill him. He manipulated you from the moment you set foot on campus. We all saw it happen and none of us recognized it for what it was. Bucky was the only one who figured it out, the only one who tried to help you. I understand, but you and Loki went through hell. You both need rest.”

 

“You're here.” That's all that Tony can say. Despite the loss, despite everything, Steve is here and just as angry as Tony and while he gets Steve’s point, while he knows it makes rational sense, this isn’t about rational. It’s about witnessing justice, maybe, maybe even exacting revenge. He hasn’t quite thought that far ahead.

 

“He’s not going to stop.” Loki’s voice slurs as he slowly props himself up. His eyes are half- closed and he looks more asleep than awake. “You tell him he can’t come, he’ll just go off on his own. And then I have to go after him. And then we’re going to be lost in the forest and die.” He falls back onto the bed, asleep as though nothing had just happened.

 

Tony wants to laugh. Mostly because laughing at inappropriate times is a thing he’s noticed he does. However, it’s the truth. He would go after Ward on his own. And Loki would follow him, drugged and in pain, he would still follow Tony, because after what happened, they wouldn’t let themselves be separated again. Steve appears to understand, at least that’s what his setting jaw and grinding teeth tell Tony.

 

“We leave at first daylight.” He says and runs a hand over his face. “We will head due west for 15 minutes to rendezvous by the creek. Up to you how you get there, but I know you’ll get creative if you have to.”

 

And Tony does get creative as he sneaks around the tents. He quietly puts together a pack, when the nurses and Doctor Cho head to a pre-dawn breakfast. By the time they return, he and Loki will be well on their way through the thicket. Tony knows he should worry about the consequences these actions will bring upon them all, but at this point, he figures that the whole program has been thrown into such disarray that they’ll be lucky anyone goes to Mars in the next five to ten years. He doesn’t think about how this probably means that neither he nor Loki will ever set foot on Mars or even go back to space again. Right now, his focus is on tossing whatever he feels may be useful into the pack before changing into field gear.

 

Loki’s still asleep in bed when Tony returns to the tent. He’s tried to give him as much time as possible to sleep, to heal, and if the images of Loki fighting Ward, of Ward slashing Loki’s arms, didn’t play in Tony’s head over and over, he would have silently left. But that isn’t what he does. With great care, he leans over Loki’s and whispers for him to wake up. Loki does, with a start, sitting up nearly knocking their heads together as he looks around in near panic.

 

“Hey,” Tony says softly, “hey, it’s okay. I was just-.”

 

“Not saying goodbye, I hope,” and how Loki can go from deep sleep to being fully awake in seconds, Tony will never understand. “Please, do pass me my clothes so we can leave.” Loki’s face is focused the same way he is for classes, before exams, before launches, or when he engages in the kind of theoretical physics that make Tony’s head swim.

 

Treating this like a mission rather than revenge promises to be what keeps them from deteriorating emotionally and maybe even what will keep them alive. So, Tony compartmentalizes. Mission first. Emotions later. He immediately nearly goes back on his word when he sees the bandages on Loki’s arm sport tiny spots of blood before they disappear under his long sleeve shirt. Once he’s dressed, he looks at Tony, calm, quiet, and much too collected for someone who has been through hell like they’ve been.

 

“We should go,” Loki says as he ties his shoes. “Rogers won’t wait if he thinks we won’t be able to keep up.”

 

“He won’t wait because he wants us to get more rest.”

 

“Rest is for the dead.” Loki shrugs and pauses, colour rapidly draining from his face. “Fuck.”

 

Tony’s heart pounds in his throat, his head, but they can’t freak out right now. They can’t give into that vortex of pain and suffering that will swallow them whole if they do. But he can’t say anything, because he’s afraid his voice will break and he’ll lose what little control he has. So, he reaches for Loki’s uninjured hand instead and squeezes it. They look at each other until Tony looks away.

 

“He did this to us.” He says as he turns to the door, because he can’t look Loki in the eyes. “We’re going to find him.”

 

“And he will pay for what he’s done.” Loki’s voice isn’t aloof or detached anymore. It’s full of barely contained anger and Tony should probably voice his concerns about exacting vengeance, but they haven’t found Ward yet and there’s no guarantee they will.

 

When they leave the tent, the first light has already crawled above the horizon. The air is heavy with humidity making it clammy and uncomfortable. Clouds cover the sky in a single sheet of grey. There’s some hope that the sun’s rays will be able to disperse the clouds and dry the air, but for now, the light is grey and dull. The dirt beneath their boots isn't muddy yet, but the stickiness in Tony's steps tells him it will if the clammy air becomes drizzle. He's not looking forward to trudging through the bush like this, still exhausted. But what worries him most is Loki who walks like someone hiding the pain he suffers, but also like someone who won’t be stopped no matter what. For now, Tony leaves it be and walks in silence.

 

Soon, their boots squelch through the mud with every step. The drizzle transformed into thick, heavy, and cold drops of rain after a few minutes of walking through the brush. This time, they have a GPS, a map, and a compass as backup. This time it’s daylight. This time they aren’t blindly running through the forest. And yet, knowing Ward is still out there, Tony feels unease tensing his entire body. He startles twice at the call of a bird and the crack of a twig under his own boots. Loki pretends like he doesn’t notice- or maybe he’s too preoccupied looking like he’s not in pain. It works for now, they can tend to their wounds- physical and emotional- later.

 

The descent to the creek comes suddenly and at night, they’d probably both have broken limbs tumbling down. It’s a fairly steep drop, but plenty of young trees, bushes, and other plants Tony can’t identify provide enough security for them to make it to the bank of the creek. It’s wider than Tony had expected, likely a whole lot deeper, too. Still quite sinuous, but just at the edge of as far as he can see, there’s a survival raft, bright orange covered in mud and gunk, tied to a tree that leans over the water. That’s their meeting point. They don’t exchange words, but their pace quickens as they walk through the dead, waist-high grasses that line the creek on this side.

 

Steve is the first person Tony sees, sitting on a fallen tree, and if he wasn’t in fatigues and mission-ready, Tony would have expect him to whittle a whistle to blow around a campfire later. Johnson talks quietly to Bucky who is carrying packs to the raft. The world narrows to a pinpoint. Tony feels drunk, drugged, and stone-cold sober all at once. Bucky carries a pack to the raft. Bucky. Lieutenant Barnes whom Tony had seen carried out of the building on a stretcher. That Bucky, now with a mask over the lower half of his face, hair pasted to his forehead with sweat, but it’s Bucky. The man Steve had told him died. He doesn’t register how Loki takes the news that Bucky is alive. He doesn’t register his own reaction because he’s briefly unsure why his knees are wet. His gut and face burn. Where there should be relief and happiness, he feels nothing but fire.

 

“You lied to me!” Tony hears himself shout as he stands back up. “You fucking lied to me, Rogers.” After everything he’d been through, after everything they’d been through, he hadn’t just lied to Tony about Bucky’s death but continued the façade last night in the tent. Tony’s angry, so incredibly angry. The rational part of his brain brings up that it may have been for the best, but the anger Tony feels is more than just that Steve lied to him, Steve lied to him despite knowing that Tony had been fed nothing but lies from Ward, despite knowing that lies had shaped the past months of his life. Steve had known and he’d _still_ lied. There’s a hand on his chest. At first he thinks it’s Loki, but Loki stands beside Johnson having walked past Steve.

 

“I’m sorry we lied.” The whisper belongs to Bucky. “You were right there beside him the whole time and we couldn’t risk he find out. I’m sorry, we should have told you-.”

 

“You’re alive, asshole.” Tony doesn’t mean to pull the guy into a hug, but what else is he going to do? Bucky doesn’t tense or pull away but wraps his arms around Tony. It’s real. Bucky is real. He’s not dead.

 

Bucky is alive.

 

And smoke rises from the East.

 


	14. Wave of Phase

With burning lungs, Tony pushes himself up off the ground. He hadn’t seen that root nor the tree against which he had slammed and torn a gash into his cheek before hitting the ground, which even though it is covered in leaves is hard enough that Tony’s teeth clicked against each other upon impact. He can feel the blood trickle from the wound and taste of copper blossom in his mouth as he realises he’s bitten his tongue. He doesn’t have time to ponder the state of the rest of him. None of the pain is excruciating, so he nods and sticks up his thumb when Johnson pauses beside him to make sure he’s okay to continue. Not that there’s a choice here. The smoke had intensified within minutes and by the time they’d realised it must be coming from the medical camp, it had settled along the river.

 

Tony pushes the wet rag now dangling from his neck back over his mouth and nose. Running hurts, but not as much as breathing the air without the protection of the fabric. His eyes haven’t stopped watering, but he can’t see much anyhow. Between the humidity and the absence of a breeze, the smoke lingers and continues to thicken. It smells of burning plastic, wood, and whatever else could possibly be on fire. Ahead of him, he can see Bucky turn a sharp right onto a deer path, maybe even the one Tony and Loki had taken toward the river earlier today. Tony can’t tell, the smoke is so thick now that he can barely make out Bucky’s shape not 25 metres ahead of him. They’re close. Tony tries not to think of how he can’t see Loki or Steve ahead of them. Once they’d figured out that the camp must be on fire, both men had taken off so fast that they all knew who they suspected. He speeds up to keep Bucky in his sights.

 

The only reason Tony realizes they have reached the camp is when he stumbles over a NASA issued tote. It’s empty, upside down, and by chance lying in his path. He turns around to tell Johnson, but she doesn’t have his back anymore. He turns back around and Bucky’s shape had disappeared into the smoke. Faintly, Tony can hear the sound of a burning fire. He wants to call out to Johnson or Bucky or even Steve and Loki, but he doesn’t know what he’s walking into. So he doesn’t. Instead, he wipes his eyes and squints until he can make out the torn down structure of the medical tent. His heart doesn’t race, he’s already expected this. There’s a sense of detachment, of acceptance that settles in his bones. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t struggle when he’s grabbed from behind and dragged deeper into the smoke.

 

Later, he wants to say that he knew Bucky’s hands or that he sensed it wasn’t Ward or that he’d hoped it had been Loki, but truth be told, in the moment, his brain shut off all its major functions. His fight-or-flight sense, broken, he allows himself to be dragged and pulled down to the ground. As if from a far, far distance, he can barely feel himself horrified when part of him expects Ward’s tongue against his cheek or the man’s hand inside his pants. Neither happens, instead a mask is forced on his face. That’s when his brain jump-starts and he pushes himself away from his captor, away from- Bucky, who has a mask strapped over his face as well. A mask, Tony realizes which is attached to a tube to a small oxygen tank on his belt. He can think because he can breathe. Until now he hadn’t even noticed the lack of oxygen to his brain but now that he does, his head hurts, his lungs scream in pain as his chest convulses in a coughing fit.

 

“Easy,” he can hear Bucky’s voice muffled behind him, “I can’t find them in this.”

 

“Much longer,” Tony sits up slowly, throat and chest sore, “and we’ll just stumble over their bodies.”

 

They sit in silence, catching their breath for a few moments. The oxygen containers aren’t designed for long-term usage. If they were full, they have maybe 45 minutes at the most. And what they should do with that time is look for anyone injured and get the hell out of there. Not that Tony doesn’t get why Loki and Steve took off and formed their own little vengeance squad. He gets it, but he also gets that running into danger without a plan is a dumb thing to do. But he can’t muster the mental stamina to be angry at them. There will be plenty of time after this- or so Tony hopes. He and Bucky don’t have much a plan themselves other than searching the camp for the fire source and extinguishing it while helping anyone in need.

 

Finding the cause of the fire isn’t hard, not with oxygen masks over their face. There is a melted pile of torn up tent, totes, wood, now burnt-out liquid fuel containers, and mixed in with the whole mess a pile of freshly torn and cut branches with leaves. Wet. They already had suspected the fire wasn’t an accident but the smoke most certainly isn’t one either. Tony looks at Loki. Astronauts or not, they’re in over their fucking heads here. Though he’s sure Bucky’s already come to that conclusion when he’d been drugged and overdosed. Again with a lack of choice, they work the problem. Pulling the branches from the smouldering mess is the first thing they do, kicking any small flame they find but careful not to disturb the pile. Impossible to say if there’s anything in there that could ignite the smoulder to a hellfire. They’re way too close to come out of that unscathed. Instinctively, he checks the oxygen tank on his belt. It’s still cool. Good.

 

Dismantling the fire is slower than they both would like, but once there no longer is a source of ignition, they hope the smoke will dissipate. To converse oxygen, they don’t talk, but every so often Bucky pauses and looks over his shoulder under the guise of wiping his eyes. Tony knows better because he’s doing the same. Looking for Loki and Steve and Johnson and Cho and the rest of them. But there is no one there. On their walk across the camp, no one had been there. No bodies, no sign of struggle. Everyone couldn’t have just disappeared into thin air. He looks at Bucky who stomps on the last of the ember.

 

“We should look for them. Cover ground.”

 

“We’re not splitting up.” Bucky says and stands closer to Tony. “This is still part of the game.”

 

“All of this, it’s my fault, isn’t it?” Tony says before his brain catches up with his mouth.

 

“Oh Tony,” the voice coming from the still lingering smoke is metallic, muffled, but still that same voice Tony had listened to for the past year. The smooth, luring velvet of it is gone now. Like the speaker in Ward’s mask filters out everything that Tony had trusted in that voice. Filters out all the smooth lies and subtle cues he’d planted in Tony’s mind and leaves it cold, almost inhuman. “Of course it is.”

 

There is nothing more that Tony wants than to throw himself forward and strangle Ward, but that’s not how this works. It’s not Bucky’s “Don’t listen to him” that calms him down, but that he knows that Ward always, always has an endgame. Ward started the fire, the smoke, everyone else appears to have vanished, and it’s all part of it. It’s all part of the plan. Tony just has to get to the end faster. And one thing Ward loves is to explain himself. Tony thinks it’s because no one else gets to know.

 

“What do you want now?” He says and it’s more than a touch hilarious that he and Bucky both try to protectively stand in front of each other at the same time. Yeah, the bullshit ends here.

 

“Well to be frank,” Ward steps forward, face covered by an oxygen mask. Depending on how he stands, light obscures his face and in those moments, it’s almost easier. Tony can pretend he’s not fighting a person but a monster. A monster in an oversized, long rain coat, boots, favouring his left, likely because he crashed into the ground with his right. He’s injured and trying to conceal it. “What I want differs a lot from what is going to happen, so let me tell you what I want. I want to trade your husband’s unconscious body for you to willingly resign and come with me, Tony, but as you can tell, I don’t have that leverage.” He steps forward. “But I do have some time to entertain myself.”

 

Tony can imagine what will come next. Whatever it is, it will be some perverse play which unites Ward’s control issues with his need to be admired and loved. And of course something that would put Tony at odds against Loki even once this is all over and ends with Ward in custody. There is an endgame, even if it is simply to irreparably split them up. There is always an endgame, but before Tony can open his mouth to respond, Bucky speaks up.

 

“It’s always about the power play with guys like you, isn’t it?” He steps towards Ward and Tony follows because if there’s a plan Bucky’s going to share it last minute to throw off Ward. “Someone put you on their chain and you’re pretending like it’s all you.”

 

“Are you trying to anger me, James?” Ward smiles.

 

“On the contrary,” Bucky smiles, “I am trying to figure out what will appease you so you let us go.”

 

Is that part of the plan? Tony looks from Ward to Bucky. Whose plan? He isn’t a fan of being left in the dark but Bucky is still half turned toward Tony. That’s good right? He wills himself not to overthink but to stay vigilant. “We just want our friends back and go home.” He adds. It feels a bit like he’s hiding behind Bucky now, but logically, he knows it’s him and Bucky in front of Ward who doesn’t exactly have the upper hand.

 

“Don’t you think that if I had your friends,” Ward smiles and looks around, “I would make sure you know?”

 

“Not unless you’re saving that as a bargaining chip for later.” Tony shrugs. “Can’t trust you.”

 

“You’re right,” Bucky looks at him, “he wants something, but for some reason, he’s coy. Definitely dangerous.” There’s a play and it’s not Ward’s. Tony smiles and takes a step closer, close enough that he almost touches Bucky and there’s a flicker in Ward’s eyes. There’s a play and it is theirs.

 

“We know he wants control over us and while we could attack and overpower him, we still don’t know if that kills our friends.” Tony can see Ward’s mind racing as he looks at them. It’s their play and Ward is trying to figure it out before they can get to the end.

 

“He loves control over others, doesn’t care if it’s blackmail or manipulation or even a long con, but I think with you.” Bucky turns to him and pulls down his oxygen mask. Tony gets to the endgame before Ward does, because he nods and pulls his own mask down when Bucky silently asks permission. “I think with you, he wants to see something like this.”

 

Kissing Bucky isn’t a surprise. And in another life, another setting when they both aren’t hypervigilant of their surroundings, this could have been a possibility because shit, Bucky kisses like he means it, hand on Tony’s neck and waist, slow, deliberate, but Tony can feel the hand on his waist sneak to Bucky’s own. And he knows, deepens the kiss so he can shift his body to conceal Bucky taking the small oxygen tank off his belt. He can hear Ward’s noise of surprise, the moment when he believes it and snaps the oxygen mask off his face. They have a fraction of a second before he’ll realize. The world slows, every motion suddenly becomes calculated like Bucky and Tony rehearsed this. The tap on his waist tells Tony to pull away. He slowly does, looking at Ward as he bites his lip and smiles and drops to the floor as Bucky throws the oxygen container hard and with precision. The looks of realization hits Ward’s face just before the container does.

 

Bucky doesn’t wait. He pushes himself away from Tony and starts to sprint the distance between them with a scream. Tony skips to the side, flanks Bucky for a moment to get behind Ward. Ward who is still stunned when Bucky tackles him to the ground. It is when Tony moves to crouch down to knock Ward out that he sees Johnson and Steve and Loki running from the forest. The world nearly stills completely as they scream things he can’t make out. As they wave, as Loki screams his name in sheer terror Tony turns to look at Bucky who froze looking down at Ward. Ward who lays on his stomach, face toward Tony. Ward whose coat Bucky had ripped off. Ward whose back was covered with a contraption, a bomb, blinking suddenly as it activates. Ward whose words Tony can make out amidst all the chaos “not yet”. Ward whose face contorts with horror when there’s a long tone. Tony looks at Loki who scrambles when Johnson grabs his waist and uses her weight to tear him off his feet and onto the ground. He looks at Loki whose eyes are filled with raw horror as he screams Tony’s name. He should say goodbye is the last thought he has before he feels Bucky’s hand against his arm and he’s hit by the weight of his friend the same moment they’re both his by the shockwave of an explosion.

 

Breath knocked out of his chest, Tony instinctively ducks his head. Protects it with his arms. The heat passes over them, singes the hair on what little exposed skin there is. He can feel the heat lick at him, burning him. He can hear Bucky scream in pain, but there’s nothing he can do, but gasp for air as a second shockwave hits and metal and fire rain down on them. Then, there is nothing but silence. Tony’s ears ring a high-pitched whine as fire turns ash and floats to the ground like the first fall of snow. The smell of burnt flesh sickens him to the point of retching. He hasn’t had enough to eat to bring up anything other than the bitter taste of bile. On top of him, Bucky lies limp and Tony can’t feel him breathing. Still almost deaf, he scrambles for purchase, reaches a root to pull himself out from under Bucky. He can feel is own voice more than he can hear it, but he knows the sounds he makes are merely noises, screams, anything to keep himself going. To move despite the pain he feels in his entire body, to move despite the nausea and the vertigo that keep washing over him. On the ground, Bucky is on his side. Tony can’t see his face as he kneels down beside him. He can’t see his chest rise and fall.

 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says, vaguely aware of the sound of helicopters around him. He doesn’t want to move Bucky, doesn’t want to make what injuries the man has worse, but he needs to know Bucky’s still alive. “Please don’t be dead. Please, you can’t die saving me. I’m not worth that. I’m not worth that.” Supporting Bucky’s neck, Tony’s body remembers the intensive field triage better than his mind does. “You can’t die on me, if Rogers finds out I’m the last person you kissed, I get to join you in the afterlife. And we can hang out here, don’t have to be dead.”

 

 

When he gently pulls Bucky’s mouth open, he can feel breath on his fingers. “Shit, yeah, you keep doing that.” He wipes his arm across his eye. “Keep doing that and don’t stop!” Tony takes care to check for any visible injuries and it is then he realizes that Bucky’s black arm isn’t black because his jacket is. He has to bite his cheek not to scream. Bucky’s arm is mostly black and red and at an odd angle to the rest of his body. Tony can see pieces of metal embedded in the flesh and more metal on the ground. Bucky has more burns and cuts and he’s bleeding too much from his ribs and leg. Tony pulls off his sweatshirt and wads it up to press it against the bleeding. From a distance, he can hear Steve scream, but he can’t react. He has to stop the bleeding, has to focus on everything but how awful Bucky’s arm looks. Focuses instead on his face, some of the hair on his head was singed off but Bucky’s face with the exception of a few scrapes is nearly untouched.

 

“Don’t wake up.” He whispers. “Please don’t wake up.” He can’t imagine the pain Bucky would have to endure when he wakes and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even Ward. There is a thud beside him as Steve drops to his knees, pulling his shirt off and pressing the light blue cotton against the wound on Bucky’s leg and watches the blood seep into it. Pressure, they have to keep pressure. Daisy’s voice is behind them as the noise of helicopters saturates the air, but Tony can’t make out what she says. They have to keep pressure Tony thinks. Keep him from bleeding out, keep him from dying in the middle of nowhere.

 

“Don’t die on us.” He says when Bucky’s eyes meet his and for a moment, there’s a silent promise that he won’t. For a moment, Bucky isn’t aware of the pain of his broken body. And then he screams. Instinctively, Tony moves to grab his hand, but Steve already has it, knuckles white. He doesn’t make a sound when Bucky dislocates his fingers, just keeps talking quietly, reassuring Bucky he’ll be okay, that everything will be fine. Tony’s vision blurs and he knows it’s not the smoke or the stench in the air. He can feel hot tears on his cheeks because it’s too much. All of this is too much.

 

Strong arms pulls him away as emergency medics surround them. He scrambles for a foot-hold, but the arms don’t let him go. They support him until he’s certain he can stand on his own. Until he sees Bucky surrounded by medics and Steve held up by Daisy watching them. They wrap around him when he waivers for a moment, when he feels overwhelmed by it all, and pull him into a tight embrace. He can smell the blood that must have seeped through Loki’s bandages when he’d opened his wounds again. He can feel the man’s heart racing in his chest, feel the rattling breath he takes when Tony settles against him.

 

“I was too slow.” Loki’s voice is quiet, laden with guilt. Tony feels the brush of lips against his ear. “We came too late.”

 

“No,” Tony knows he doesn’t have much strength left, but he wants Loki to hear this. “He didn’t set it off. He wasn’t ready to die. Wasn’t you. Wasn’t your fault. Never your fault.”

 

It doesn’t take long before Bucky is strapped on a gurney and rushed to the nearest helicopter which takes off with Steve but not with Daisy. She’s beat up, sprouting a black eye and various cuts on her face and hands. A medic applies a splint to her arm. When Tony turns to Loki to ask what happened, he is pulled away and sat down on a gurney himself. There’s a bright light in his eyes and too many words for him to process. He can hear himself say “I think I’m in shock. I need a blanket” but it doesn’t feel like the words are real. None of this feels real and too real all at once. He can hear someone make notes of all the x-rays they need to take once they land. It doesn’t feel like he’s broken anything, but he isn’t a doctor. Someone gives him a bottle of water, but as he drinks, the taste of blood and dirt and ash overwhelm him and he throws up what little water he’d forced down.

 

“It’s okay,” says one of the medics and takes his arm. There’s a pinprick and then his arm feels cold. “We will take care of you.” She says and gently places her hand on his forearm.

 

“Loki, where is Loki?” Tony tries to get off the gurney but can’t find the strength. “Loki? Loki?!” Panic settles in his chest. What if Loki was worse off than he’d let on, what if they’d taken him away already what if-

 

“Here, Anthony,” he can hear Loki’s voice beside him, “right here.”

 

“Lie back for me?” The medic waits until Tony settles down, Loki’s hand in his. Aware of that, she doesn’t strap him in too tightly, just enough so he feels secure. He leans back and is about to close his eyes when he sees Daisy, sitting on a chair looking lost.

 

“Don’t let her be alone.” He tries to sit up again, but Loki nods like he already knows and softly calls her name.

 

None of them should be alone right now and Daisy must feel the most alone of them all. She tries to smile when she walks over, but her face distorts and it’s when Loki embraces her that Tony realizes how much time they must have spent together. How close they’d grown while off at flight school. How despite everything, Daisy must have known how much Loki’s actions weighed on him. And Loki holds her tight when she cries against him, when she clutches his shirt and sobs because she’s been betrayed by her closest friend, a friend whom she watched as he was torn apart by a bomb strapped to his back. Tony aches for her, but there are no words. Instead, he extends his arm to gently squeeze hers but when she feels him, she lets go of Loki with one arm and holds Tony’s hand.

 

The flight passes uneventful, and a few minutes in, Daisy falls asleep on Loki’s shoulder. Tony’s smile is tired but once they receive word that Bucky will live, he feels like he’s much lighter. Ward is dead and no matter what, this is the end of his nightmare. The aftermath doesn’t matter right now, not when Loki takes Tony’s hand and kisses his palm. After that, they both drift off asleep until they arrive back in Houston. It seems like a different planet now, no need to head to Mars. It’s a complete press blackout, they’re told, for the sake of national and international security. Tony doesn’t care, he’s not going anywhere and neither is Loki who still holds his hand as Tony is wheeled onto the tarmac with clear instructions not to try and get up. Simmons and Fitz meet Daisy at the tarmac, embracing her tightly and Tony knows she won’t be alone in her pain.

 

Maybe they’ve given him a sedative because he doesn’t panic when Loki is told to wait behind doors for a doctor while Tony is pushed through into another room and lain on a table and radiated until he’s given the clear with only two fractured ribs and a few bone contusions. Everyone tells him he’s lucky as all hell and that’s okay. There are clean clothes for him and a nurse helps him with the pyjama shirt when he fumbles with the buttons. He’s even okay when his bed is rolled into an otherwise empty room. There’s a knock on his door and Tony perks up, but Steve is the one who walks into the room.

 

“Sorry, I know I’m not the one you wanted to see.”

 

“No, but it’s good to see you.” Tony smiles and pushes the button on his bed that helps him sit up. “How are you holding up? How is-“

 

“He just got out of surgery.” Steve’s lips are thin. “The internal bleeding was easily stopped, but he has- he lost his arm. I- he will live and for not that’s all that matters.”

 

“He saved my life.”

 

“We were too late.” Steve sighs. “We ran off like idiots. He’d come back with an ATV and we found a comm device and got Johnson to hack it while we tried to follow some fake tracks he left for us. We should have stayed, should have tried to go back to look for you and Bucky, but I was so mad and after all he did, I-“

 

“Not your fault. No one’s fault but Ward’s and whoever the people who blew him up are.” Tony says and he knows there will be a debriefing on that soon enough. “You need a nap and then some coffee, if you wanna crash here, I’ve got some choice floor property or I can scoot.”

 

That makes Steve chuckle. “Thanks, but I think I’ll go make sure Johnson is okay. Besides, I think you and your new roommate will want some privacy.”

 

“After all this I don’t get a sin-,” Tony breaks off when Steve steps out of the door and holds it open for a nurse to wheel another bed into the room. Another bed on which Loki lays, changed into clean pyjamas, looking pale but as calm as Tony. Also drugged then.

 

“There was medical insistence that it is required of me to stay in bed.” He smiles a little lop-sided. “My condition for compliance was clear.”

 

“Now, you both need rest.” The nurse pulls down the sides of both Tony and Loki’s bed and pushes them together. “The beds are locked but I don’t want to come back to both of you concussed because of shenanigans. Understood?”

 

“I assure you,” Loki looks at her or the wall behind her, “we are both so full of sedatives that if we end up concussed, it will be because we have melted onto the floor and inconveniently solidified.”

 

“Good enough for me.” She draws the blinds and curtains close and turns off the light. “Emergency buttons on your beds. I’ll check on you regularly.”

 

She doesn’t close the door completely behind her, but enough that the room is almost completely dark. Tony can hear Loki breathe so close beside him and he’s so tired that if he listens much longer, he’ll fall asleep. And he can’t, not yet, not until he’s made sure-. Clumsily, he pushes himself up and closer to the edge of his bed. Loki doesn’t say a word, still breathing quietly in the dark. But he’s not asleep, Tony knows what he sounds like when he sleeps and this isn’t it. This is something else entirely, something they haven’t had in- fuck- over a year.

 

“Loki,” Tony says and in the dark fumbles for Loki’s hand.

 

“Anthony.” Loki’s breath is heavy. Guilt, of course he still feels guilt. Tony can only imagine how he would have felt if Loki was in his place and there isn’t anything he can say to make those feelings vanish. He think of how it must have felt to run toward Loki, knowing the danger only to be too late and watch an explosion engulf him. He gets the pain, especially after everything. He gets it so much and it would be so easy to give into it, to let them both slip into that darkness, but Tony can’t, he just can’t. They need to cross that bridge right now and maybe even burn it down behind them. So he takes Loki’s hand and kisses the knuckles gently.

 

“As a matter of full disclosure,” he says, keeping his voice deadpan, “I need you to understand that Rogers may demand answers when he finds out that I made out with his boyfriend.”

 

“What?” Loki doesn’t tense, it’s genuine confusion in his voice. Good. He shimmies closer until he can wrap an arm gently around Loki’s shoulders.

 

“There was need for distraction and we didn’t have much on hand.”

 

“You made out with Bucky?” Maybe Loki thinks he’s joking because that voice is thoroughly bemused and leans his head against Tony’s chest.

 

“For about ten seconds, tongue and everything.” He pauses. “Wait why are you so amused?”

 

“You made out with James Buchanan Barnes, the guy Steve Rogers has been seeing since high school?”

 

“I’m dead.”

 

“I’ve always liked Wednesday funerals.”

 

Tony almost makes a joke about how he though Loki would come to his defence, but he swallows it before it can leave his lips. Not yet. Maybe not ever, but definitely not yet. And because he doesn’t want to push the gallows humour too far, he leans forward instead and captures Loki’s lips in a gentle kiss. He likes the sigh he hears when Loki returns the kiss. There’s no hurry in it, because they know they’re safe. It’s slow, bordering on lazy and just what they both need. Loki moves his hand to cup Tony’s cheek, to keep him close just in case he’s thought about pulling away. He hasn’t, not when Loki’s touch makes him feel more at ease and more content than he has been. He doesn’t want the kiss to end either. He doesn’t want to stop tasting Loki’s lips and the subtle hint of mint on his breath. He shimmies down and they have to pull apart when they both lie down to face each other. Loki slides his leg between Tony’s knees and carefully scoots closer. They haven’t had this since selection day. So, he smiles into the darkness and kisses Loki again because he can, because Loki is right there. Loki smiles into the kiss and entwines his fingers with Tony’s. Everything will be all right.

 

“I love you.” Loki whispers against Tony’s lips. And before, they weren’t maudlin, they didn’t always say I love you, but now, now Tony knows it can’t be said enough.

 

“I love you.” Not ‘too’, because that’s not enough. Just “I love you” again and again because they’re finally safe and alone in the darkness with each other’s warmth.

 

 

Fin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will be an epilogue this weekend


	15. Epilogue

The noise coming from the workshop travelled up two floors and roused Loki from his sleep. He pauses for a moment and waited on whether or not it is a passing burst of Against Me and intermittent drilling and what sounded like someone trying to hammer through a wall. It isn’t. With a sigh, Loki slides out of bed and pulls a housecoat over his naked form. In the past four months, Anthony had withdrawn to his workshop more often than he had not. The move to another coast- away from everything- had landed them in a mansion in Malibu. Not exactly what Loki had in mind when he’d suggested away from everything, but compromises and all that. When Anthony had first begun to sneak off into the basement, Loki is ashamed to admit, he’d thought the man had returned to alcohol to cope with the trauma they’d experienced. Loki pushes away the thoughts that want to carry him back to that particular therapy session, but that’s the past. This is the present. Four o’clock in the morning present.

 

With bare feet, Loki descends the stairs. The volume of the music becomes deafening when he stands in front of the workshop doors. Normally, he knocks, but he doubts Anthony can hear and steps into the room. The first thing that hits him is the heat, the sweltering heat, the room is hot, many degrees hotter than the rest of the house. The second thing that hits him is the smell, acrid, burnt, and the very distinct- if not entirely unpleasant- smell of Anthony’s body odour. Anthony who is perched on a stool, also barefoot, soldering wires to a circuit board, shirt drenched with sweat. Beside him, there is the bare structure of the next version of the prosthetics he’s been working on. Always an engineer, Anthony- dear Anthony- had tried to alleviate his guilt over Bucky’s arm by inventing a brand new type of prosthetic. And to everyone’s- even his own- surprise, it had been a success. This is version three point seven four, or five. Honestly, at this point Loki has lost count of both the model and the amount of time Anthony has spent in his workshop without surfacing. He turns off the media player.

 

“What-?” Anthony whips around with surprise, but he relaxes when he sees Loki who leans against the doorframe. “Sorry, too loud?” The apologetic smile he wears smooths the turmoil Loki has felt since he’d woken.

 

“Yes,” Loki says and closes the distance between them, careful not to step on errant pieces and parts Anthony’s strewn everywhere. “But now that I find myself here, I feel I must inform you, Anthony Stark, you stink.”

 

“Is that so?” He has that smile-that _smile_ \- and it still makes Loki’s heart and stomach feel like they switched place. Anthony’s fingers are on the belt around Loki’s waist, his other arm wraps around him, and Loki knows he should extract himself out of the embrace, but how could he when with deft fingers, Anthony pulls on the knot and smiles again when Loki’s robe falls open.

 

“Positively.” Loki finally answers. He does not feel neglected, he does have his own work after all, but he does indeed like having Anthony’s attention all to himself.

 

“And I suppose you’re here to drag me into the shower.” The kiss Loki feels on his neck is 100% distraction, but he has himself under control. He will get Anthony to the shower and go back to bed. His resolve doesn’t crumble when Anthony kisses his way along Loki’s shoulder. He wavers when he feels the dip of tongue against his collarbone. He watches his conviction float out of the room when Anthony drops to his knees. He doesn’t care anymore when-

 

“Fuck.” Loki fumbles to grip the work bench behind him. “Fuck!” He exclaims when the door and Anthony’s phone ring at the same time. “It’s four o’clock in the fucking morning.” He pretends he doesn’t hear the broken high-pitch in his voice and can’t help but laugh when Anthony chuckles against his hip bone while reaching for his phone. “Whoever it is, tell them I hate them.”

 

Anthony frowns when he sees the number, stands up, and turns away from Loki when he answers. That isn’t exactly a good sign. Without seeing the number, it could be anything. Loki pulls the belt of his housecoat back around his waist and steps beside Anthony. There is new sweat on his brow and he is pale, too pale. Gently, Loki places his hand on the small of Anthony’s back and furrows his brow when he feels him shake.

 

“Hey, I’m gonna need you to repeat that on speaker phone.” Anthony says and holds the phone in front of them. Loki wraps his arm around Anthony’s waist and looks at him concerned. “Okay, go.”

 

“This is highly unusual, Stark.” That’s Administrator Coulson’s voice. Things had changed a lot during the six months after they’d left the forest and training. Human spaceflight was classified until the selection of candidates, and even then, security would be incredibly tight. Both Anthony and Loki continued to work for NASA, but with everyone else but them, Steve and Bucky continuing training, there is no reason for a call at four o’clock in the morning. “But all right, I’m on the East Coast at Kennedy where the Selection Committee is about to announce the successful candidates and their back-up crew. You were supposed to receive separate calls-“

 

“If you could get to the point,” Loki sighs, “it is quite early in the morning.”

 

“Fine, you’re in. Both of you. Congratulations, barring any emergencies or health issues, you’re going to be one of the five first people to set foot on Mars.”

 

“Who else?” Loki says like it matters, like he can think of anything other than- he’s not sure his brain still functions.

 

“Johnson, Romanoff, Rhodes.” Coulson sighs. “The ring at your door is security ready to take you to the airport. The NASA jets are ready to take you to mission briefing and once you accept the contract, it’s off to mission-specific training. You understand your discretion on the subject is required.”

 

There is nothing Loki can say. No words he can form. He should be ecstatic, thrilled, shouting with joy, and yet here he stands, shaking, staring at the fading scars on his arms, fighting the words that form inside him mind: _I cannot do this_. It is merely a stress reaction, he tells himself as he takes a deep breath. He is just overwhelmed. It isn't how he truly feels.

 

“We’re gonna need half an hour.” Anthony hangs up the phone and looks at Loki. “Together or not at all. You say the word and we say no. I’m not going to another planet without you.” Anthony who takes his hands, entirely genuine with his words. Loki takes another shaking breath.

 

“I may throw up on you.” He manages and Anthony smiles. Of course he smiles, because he knows that Loki’s already pulling himself together.

 

“We both know I can handle vomit. And...,” he slides his hand underneath Loki’s housecoat, “...I did start something I intended to finish.”

 

Loki cannot form any further words, but simply allows Anthony to pull him to the floor.

 

Twenty-seven minutes later, they’re at the door, dressed, with coffees in their hands.

 

“Fuck,” Anthony exclaims after they're well on their way to the airport. Everyone looks at him likely expecting him to have forgotten something. But he continues, like he's just come to a realization. “Loke, we’re going to Mars.”

 

Loki chuckles, but he understands. He feels the same immense and entirely ineffable feeling that fills every fibre of his being.

 

“I do believe we are.” He says and looks out the window of the car and watches the sunlight break above the horizon.

 

 

 


End file.
